


"Forever"

by WithACherryOnTop



Series: Song Fics [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dehydration, Emotional Peter Parker, Exhaustion, Fainting, Fluff, High School Finals Week, High School Pre-Finals Week, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Pass out, Peter Parker Whump, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Songfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27212323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithACherryOnTop/pseuds/WithACherryOnTop
Summary: Peter Parker has to balance everything a normal teenager must, and then some: school, homework, eating, sleeping, hygiene, clubs, Spider-Man patrols, Avengers training, and of course, Avengers missions. However, walking into one of the most difficult of weeks, pre-finals week, he finds that his body simply cannot keep up, no matter how much he wills it so. Thankfully, Tony is always there to catch him when he falls flat on his back, literally.Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel and/or Sony. I do not give permission for this work to be copied and/or published to any other sites.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Song Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986670
Comments: 28
Kudos: 143





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I'm sorry this author's note will be a bit lengthier than most.
> 
> First off, never did I ever imagine that I would write a story while another story sits "incomplete". However, it has happened. Writing "Have You Ever Seen the Village?" so fervently, I believe that I was getting burnt out. The story was becoming extremely Tony-centric, and I wanted to be able to branch out more into Peter's world. Therefore, when I found myself settling down to write chapter eleven of "Have You Ever Seen the Village?" I would find my mind wandering. Therefore, I finally decided to write this story instead, and I have not regretted it.
> 
> I will make it VERY CLEAR now that I will NEVER not complete a story. As you are reading this, and as it updates for the next 4-5 weeks (this story is 100% done), I will be finishing "Have You Ever Seen the Village?", because every story deserves an ending. After this story's last chapter is posted, I hope to have chapter eleven of "Have You Ever Seen the Village?" posted the following Monday, and then the final chapter posted the Monday after.
> 
> Very quickly, I will discuss the style of this story, and every songfic that I have planned after it. Like most everyone, when I hear music, I picture stories in my head. Sometimes, the songs are even score pieces. The song that inspired this story is Labrinth's "Forever" from the HBO series Euphoria (starring Zendaya). I know that it recently came out that the song actually has lyrics, just that they are very indistinct, but in the idea for this story, I had just always heard nonsensical noise. Beautiful nonsensical noise, mind you.
> 
> For chapter one, I imagine the opening 0:22 seconds of the song. The sounds and vocals just make me picture someone going about their day, not really imagining the hardships that they may soon face, which I think is depicted as the song continues. I hope that this isn't too confusing, and maybe you have your own ideas of how the song is to be interpreted, but this is how I interpret it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! This one really took me back to my junior and senior years of high school!

Peter sighs heavily as he enters the front doors of Midtown. It’s Monday morning. It’s 6:05am. It’s still dark out. He lets the heavy doors hit his backside as he trudges inside, dragging his feet along an ugly, stained carpet. It’s a faded blue that once resembled the school’s colors, but any visitors or parents waiting in the lobby area wouldn’t be able to tell now. He contemplates what he’s doing here.

He quickly pulls the hood of one of his favorite sweatshirts over his head, trying to shield his eyes. It is just too early for any of this annoying, disgusting fluorescent lighting. Normally hoods and hats aren’t allowed to be worn in the school, but as there are no teachers or administrators around to stop him, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.

He stops at his locker, having to put in the combo twice because he cranked past the numbers too fast. He could drop off _one_ of his agonizingly heavy textbooks, he wouldn’t need it until after lunch, but the rest would have to stay glued to his back.

Normally, Spider-Man could lift concrete pillars and steel beams, but not now. Not today. Not this week.

There are only two weeks out of every year that Peter Parker absolutely dreads. Just fourteen days, or, three-hundred-thirty-six hours, or, twenty-thousand-one-hundred-sixty minutes, or, one-million-two-hundred-nine-thousand-six-hundred seconds, or. . .

Each and every one of these days, the clock moves too fast or too slow. It moves at the speed which is least convenient to the hero. He can beg, either, “Just get it over with, please.” or, “No, please, I’m not ready yet!” Time does not care. His pleas go unheard.

Not even weeks, but months in advance of these daunting periods, the thought of them makes Peter’s throat clench and sends an uncomfortable sinking in his gut. The absolute pain, misery, and exhaustion that are forthcoming are too stressful to ignore, and too inevitable to avoid.

“Whaddup, dork.” MJ slams Peter’s locker door shut for him.

Peter shoots her a glare that he knows she won’t take any offense to. “Listen, I know that you want to finish your first year as team captain at the top so that you can secure the spot for next year, but why? Why, why, why do we have to be here this early?”

“Wow, someone is grumpy this morning. You should be used to it by now.” MJ laughed as they walked together. She was a gifted morning person. It’s not that Peter wasn’t, but he wasn’t ready for this particular morning.

“Come on M, you know what week it is.” Peter complained.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, you’ll be just fine. We all will.” MJ smiled as she noticed Peter’s dejected look when he eyed the stairwell that was their route to the library. “And then, once it’s over, summer will only be a week away.”

A week away. That’s right. After this awful week, then there was only finals week to get through, and then summer.

Peter never understood why movies, T.V., and books always depicted finals week as the absolute nightmare for any and all high school and college students. Characters would always be seen cramming and cramming minutes up to the test and drinking ridiculous quantities of Red Bull and Starbucks, and that just wasn’t reality. At least, it wasn’t for him and all of his friends.

Finals week was mostly a breeze for all students at Midtown School of Science and Technology. Each and every kid was gifted with a bright STEAM mind, and the last test of the semester never put much of a dent in anybody’s grades. In fact, most of their grades would be boosted a half letter, that is, if they answered the bonus/extra credit questions on their finals correctly, and, if they had been efficient and successful in the week prior.

The week before finals is where the real dirty work is. You’ve scheduled your presentation on _The Great Gatsby_ on Monday, so you could get it out of the way, two projects in engineering due on Tuesday morning, or afternoon if you can convince Mr. Jacobson to give you a bit more time, last minute unit exams in biology and physics on Wednesday along with a report on _The Great Gatsby_ , the Algebra II final on Thursday because the class voted to have the test then so that they could have a party on the final day next week, and therefore, six classes worth of final study guides, each with around one-hundred questions, due at the beginning of each period on Friday. And that was the case for a Midtown kid who wasn’t involved with sports, or clubs, or web-slinging extra-curriculars.

Peter, in addition to the school work, had academic decathlon practices every other morning, crime-fighting every day after school until some random hour in the evening, a lab night with Tony on Wednesday, Avengers training at the Compound on Thursday, and _another_ trip to the Compound on Friday for an Avengers meeting. It was a lot, to say the least.

Peter had survived the other pre-finals week back in December. It had been academically rough, and he’d had one or two detentions to serve from the Washington D.C. incident, but there wasn’t a whole lot else going on. MJ had allowed for the team to take a break after Thanksgiving, and crime in New York hadn’t taken Peter’s Spider-Manning any later than 7:00pm.

This week, however, looked brutal.

Peter trudged up the stairs as MJ stepped up two-at-a-time. “So I was thinking we start with some physics drills.” She knew that they were typically Peter’s favorite problems to solve, and she wanted to be nice.

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

“Shut up, dork, or we’ll quiz over F. Scott Fitzgerald’s origins instead, which are absolutely _crucial,_ ” MJ exaggerated the word, “for any ‘A+’ Gatsby presentation.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “If those are Mrs. Smither’s conditions then I won’t be getting an ‘A’ because I’ve only got the symbolism of the green light and the car in my presentation.”

MJ shook her head. “Come on, Peter. Symbolism is eighth grade stuff. You’ve gotta talk about themes, and whether Nick is a reliable narrator, and-”

“Nah. Books may be your thing, but they are certainly not mine.” Peter carried their conversation into the library, where sweet old Mrs. Johnson peeked over the books she was stacking and greeted them like always.

MJ rose her voice in passion. “I’m just saying, literature, and art, and poetry, and all of that stuff is so important and beautiful, and it needs to be preserved, and cherished-”

“Whatever you say, ‘Old sport.’” Peter waved her off.

They both swallowed down their laughter as they sat down in their respective seats at their meeting spot, MJ at the head of the table, and Peter at the very end. Ned and Mr. Harrington, who was rigorously grading assignments that he had put off until the end of the school year, were already present.

Peter and Ned did their handshake. It was always at this moment that Peter and MJ would stop talking to each other, unless they were discussing decathlon. Their morning conversation had been very light, and had flowed, but sometimes they still felt a bit too awkward and shy around each other. Each had feelings for the other, but had yet to admit it, and they didn’t really want the team guessing or assuming anything until they had figured it out for themselves, especially Flash. Peter had already confided in Ned, a little bit, but other than that, nobody really knew, and that’s how he would like to keep it.

“So, the big week, right?” Ned elbowed Peter.

“Yup. I don’t know if I’ll make it, to be honest.” Peter pulled a large banana, and an entire jar of peanut butter out of his backpack. It was the week before finals. No one would question it.

This week, it was normal to see AP and IB students walking around with entire boxes of cereal, jocks carrying 2L bottles of Pepsi, and band geeks cradling Toll House tubs of chocolate chip cookie dough. Peter would look just like one of the crowd. No one would even guess that the peanut butter was a huge staple for his ridiculous metabolism, they’d just think it was some sort of comfort-food thing.

Peter peeled his banana, sunk it into the peanut butter, and took a huge bite. After swallowing the thick bolus painfully, he added to Ned, “I think the study guides are what have got me most fried. Like, I can’t just save those for Thursday night, I think that that would be impossible to get all done in that time-span. But I don’t know where I can work on them during the week.”

Ned offered, “Well maybe on Wednesday night you could come over and-”

Peter started to open his mouth to explain his Wednesday plans, and Ned and him both called out, “Stark Internship.”

“Yeah, I should have remembered that. But, don’t even stress.” Ned acted nonchalant, as if he wasn’t anxious up to his eyeballs about their coming week. “It’ll be over before we know it.”

The rest of the team members shuffled in, and at 6:15am, MJ began the first of three decathlon practices during one of the toughest weeks of everyone’s lives.

\-------------------------------------------------

The cafeteria was a bit louder than usual today.

Jason and Peter in particular were speaking frantically, loudly, at one another.

“I don’t remember reading that in the book!”

“No, dude, trust me, it’s in there. I’m tryna get you bonus points.”

“But I don’t think that Daisy ever-”

“Nonono, Peter, look.” Ned joined the debate, slapping _The Great Gatsby_ onto the table, opened to page one-hundred-thirty-five. He was tapping at a line of dialogue. “She says it right here.”

Peter picked up the book, reading Daisy’s line and a few paragraphs above and below it to gain some context. After a moment, he looked up at Jason, “And you’re sure talking about this will get me an automatic ‘A’?”

“Betty told me that Susan talked about it during her presentation, and Mrs. Smithers was like, losing her mind over it, ya know, how English teachers do. She talked and talked and talked about it and literally, like, gave Susan a standing ovation afterwards.” Jason could see that the entire table was eating up everything he said, except for those who had already delivered their presentations, or who had a different English teacher. “You just gotta change the wording up a little bit, and boom! You gotta dub right there!”

“Okayokayokayokay. So what if I also,” Peter glanced at the clock, frightened by how quickly lunch had gone, “mention this, as well,” he pointed towards another paragraph on the page parallel to Daisy’s line.

The whole table let out a chorus of “no”’s, shaking their heads, trying to help Peter get ready for his presentation. There was no time for Peter to have his own ideas, they needed to guide him.

“Just study this. _This_ right here.” Jason grabbed the book from Peter’s hands, tracing his finger across a series of lines.

“Alrightalright, just give it back real quick.” Peter shot another look at the clock. A whole nine more seconds had passed. “I got this, I got this.” He brought the book closer to his face, as if somehow, the words would leap off of them and become embedded in his mind.

Peter was left to studying as the rest of the table began to break out and start discussing their opinions on the better Gatsby: Robert Redford or Leonardo Dicaprio. They had been required to watch both movies and compare them to the book, but most of the kids just wanted to compare actors and actresses. Any other time, Peter may have joined the conversation, but he didn’t want to hear any possible misinformation, and mix it up with his presentation.

There were just minutes left on the clock, and Peter had memorized all that he could. He quickly pulled out his laptop and checked through his Google Slides presentation, _twice_. Everything looked as appropriate as it should, no distracting memes or silly transitions. A student had once did that in class on a presentation of _Lord of the Flies_ , with a meme about Jack Merridew on dew, and while the entire class had found it hilarious, Peter included, Mrs. Smithers had sent the student to Principal Morita’s office. Some teachers were okay with a little bit of fun, and some were not, so Peter would just leave his more comedic creativity for a different presentation.

The bell rang.

“Good luck, Peter!”

“Hey, let me know how it goes in sixth period, alright man.”

“You’ll ace it.”

“Remember the _line_ , Pete. Remember it!”

Peter let out a distracted “thanks” to his peers’ last minute words of wisdom and comfort as he gathered his things and got ready to head to fifth period. He took his lunch tray, still full of food because who has time to eat when you’ve got a presentation, and before dumping the remnants in the trash, stole the waxy Granny Smith apple. While he hated to waste food, everything other than the too-green, most-likely GMO fruit was barely considered edible, let alone nutritious.

His heart was beginning to pound and his hands were starting to tremble as he turned down the English wing of the school. He’d have to eat his apple after he presented, unless he wanted to throw it up. He’d definitely need to slather it in more peanut butter to get some calories as well. Peter pulled a face, not enjoying the thought of eating and the thick taste of peanut butter at the moment.

He was at the door just as Mrs. Smithers was heading out into the hall to greet her students and do some hall monitoring. “Good afternoon, Mr. Parker. You’ll be presenting first.”

Peter’s face paled, but he gave her a shaky smile. “Great, uhm, I’m ready, I guess.” The second he was through the door his smile dropped. With little enthusiasm, he plugged his laptop into the smartboard, his first title slide now on display for the class. He took a deep breath. In ten minutes, it would be over. It was always best to go first, right?

\-------------------------------------------------

The entire class was clapping as Peter settled down into his seat. It was the kind of applause that was a mix of genuine “you did a good job”’s, “I wasn’t really listening”’s, and “you get one clap because I’m still preparing for my own presentation”’s.

Peter sighed deeply, quickly replaying and scrutinizing his presentation over in his head. The flush that always krept up his chest and settled in his cheeks whenever he was nearing the end of any presentation he was giving was finally receding. He’d said everything he’d needed to say, matched his points with his slides, and remembered to add what Jason had told him to add.

At one point, Peter had accidentally said “the green apple” instead of “the green light”, which he cursed his nerves and his lunch for. However, it had gotten some giggles out of the class, and Mrs. Smithers didn’t seem upset, or think that he was fooling around, so he didn’t worry about it too much.

All in all, Peter considered it a “Parker win".

Maybe this week wouldn’t be so bad after all.

\-------------------------------------------------

After school, Peter swapped his dinner at Delmar’s with spending an extra thirty minutes in the industrial lab to finish his two engineering projects. He could get a snack after patrol. It was no big deal.

Peter had actually enjoyed himself at the lab, joking around with all of the other kids who were trying to get their own projects in peak position. Plus Mr. Jacobson, like most shop class teachers, was a whole different breed of human, and extremely amusing to be around. At one point, he pretended to drop someone’s project. It was very dramatic and very theatrical, and the smashing of all of the mechanic parts had left everyone speechless, and terrified for whoever the project belonged to. He then burst out laughing, letting everyone know that it was one of his upperclassmen’s abandoned projects that was of no real use. The practical joke was mostly hilarious because of how funny Mr. Jacobson thought it was.

Peter chuckled again, remembering the way all of the kids had been kicking busted parts and screws across the concrete floors, as he stepped into his suit. Peter pulled the mask over his face. “Alright, Karen, what have we got tonight. I hope it’s not much, ‘cause I got a lot of homework.”

“Jack Crane, a ten year old boy, has contacted the non-emergency services about a missing dog, who was last seen. . .”

Time for work.

\-------------------------------------------------

While reuniting a family with their dog had been very rewarding, the rest of Peter’s patrol was not. Dealing with common crooks and helping the elderly with their groceries hadn’t been a problem, but then a hullabaloo of other trouble started up.

Peter deemed the whole patrol botched, for starters, because he was climbing in through his window at 12:18am, hours after his planned, but non-existent, curfew. And with Aunt May working a night shift, there had been no one to call him and tell him to get his Spider-butt home. Tony, who believed Peter was too smart for school anyways, usually left him to make his own decisions about patrolling, and wouldn’t typically check in on him unless he was alerted to some sort of injury or distress. It was so late that he didn’t even give Happy his report.

Some real trouble had been an attempted armed robbery at a pawn shop. By the time Peter had arrived, it had already escalated much further than he was used to or comfortable with. There were a few potential hostages, two of which were a young boy and his grandfather, a relationship that always pulled Peter’s mind to thoughts of Uncle Ben. While disarming the two men and fending them off wasn’t particularly difficult, several misfires had ensued, causing many of the people in the store to scream and the boy to cry. While no one was hurt, it was always increasingly stressful to see the people he vowed to protect in such fear.

The real _real_ trouble had occurred right as he was getting ready to call it a night. Karen had reported a gas leak at a busy strip mall, and while he had rushed there, not many people seemed to be in such a hurry to leave. He had informed the owners and businesses of the strip mall about the leak, but most weren’t too keen to shut down until the police and fire department came to confirm it. And without enhanced olfactory senses, they didn’t smell any gas leak, so why worry? It was always frustrating to Peter when he was just trying to do his job, and nobody would listen to him. That, or they would yell at him, and claim he was a part of the problem. Tony had told him he would get to enjoy many of those experiences as an Avenger.

Once the authorities Karen had dispatched had arrived, and people decided to take things seriously, Peter had spent his time getting everyone out of the buildings. Then, he had decided to join the departments and help them find the source of the leak. It had taken a couple of hours, and while his mask had a filtration system, he felt a little bit dizzy, and had a slight headache.

Peter stepped out of his suit and crashed on the bed.

He pulled out his phone, texted May that he was home, texted Tony that he was home, texted Happy that he was home, and texted Ned that he was home. He didn’t wait for their responses.

While Peter had planned to start on his study guides and his _The Great Gatsby_ paper tonight, they could wait another day. Food could too. And showering. This week, sleep was most important. He felt himself drifting off right as his stomach was about to growl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, alright, alright! Just a little short taste of what's to come.
> 
> This chapter is very short in comparison to the rest of the chapters (the entire story is just shy of 30,000 words). You could say that that is because Peter's "happy-go-lucky" vibes aren't meant to last very long. As always, we've got to have the basic set-up and the happy feelings before everything gets too wild. It's going to be a lot of fun!
> 
> If you are familiar with the work Lord of the Flies, or even if you aren't, please look up the "Merridew on dew" meme. You won't regret it!
> 
> With this story, I loved including snippets of Jason Ionello (the boy who is one of the anchors for Midtown's News show that you see at the beginning of Spider-Man: Far From Home and throughout Spider-Man: Homecoming). I hope there is more of Jason in Spider-Man 3, but you never know what Marvel Studios is going to do. Jason literally has one of my two favorite lines from Spider-Man: Far From Home. My absolute FAVORITE line is the "Welcome to the Netherlands!", and then I love Jason just staring at the camera going, "DOES ANYONE EVEN HAVE A PLAN!"
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> -WithACherryOnTop


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update, as promised!
> 
> So, with this chapter, I think about 0:23 - 0:44 of "Forever". To me, this portion of the song just has some serious vibes about everything starting to go downhill. Everything's starting to build up and up and up, and that's what is in store for Peter in this coming chapter.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

Peter’s alarm blared at 6:20am. While he was usually excited about his extra hour on days without Decathlon practice, this particular day didn’t feel like such a win. His head felt a bit congested, even though he couldn’t really get sick. He brushed it off as a side effect from the gas leak and having to breathe stale, musty, strip mall air.

His desired wake-up time only gave him the minimum amount of time to get ready. He had to catch the subway in about twenty-five minutes if he wanted to make the rest of the walk to school.

He brushed his teeth and washed his face with some hand soap before giving himself the onceover in the mirror. He could see the trace beginnings of some cystic, hormonal-type acne on his cheeks. “Well Peter, that’s what happens when you stress yourself out and don’t wash your face after patrol,” he told his reflection. He slapped on some Neutrogena Rapid Clear Spot Gel and called it good.

Before leaving the apartment, he checked to see if Aunt May had come home early, but her open bedroom door proved that she hadn’t. He grabbed a couple of granola bars and the other half of a package of frosted strawberry Pop-tarts, and headed to school.

\-------------------------------------------------

“Dude, why are you eating that?! The brown sugar cinnamon is the OG flavor.” Ned was flabbergasted by Peter’s choice in toaster pastries.

“They were just what was left lying around the house, and you’re wrong, the unfrosted blueberry is the OG.” Peter popped the last piece of Pop-Tarts crust in his mouth.

The two of them were heading to their engineering class before first period to turn in their projects. They had started by talking about Peter’s late night of Spider-Man duties, and had ended up debating the best flavors of one of Kellogg’s many sugary creations.

Peter and Ned groaned at the sight of the line outside Mr. Jacobson’s door.

“Why can’t we just turn our projects in _during_ our actual engineering class period? Why has it got to be now?” Ned asked.

“It’s because Mr. Jacobson wants us all to spend our time on more important things, like blowing stuff up during class.” Peter couldn’t help being a little bit annoyed at the logic of it all, and he didn’t like to be. After all, he had been getting along with Mr. Jacobson’s antics just fine after school yesterday. He understood and appreciated when teachers tried to de-stress their students, but studying, and not having to miss the first fifteen minutes of first period seemed much more important.

Once their projects had been submitted, Ned headed off to gym, and Peter scurried to biology, where he had missed out on how to access some different "Chapter 8" study materials along with the beginning of their jeopardy game. Oh well, he could text MJ and exchange notes with her that night.

\-------------------------------------------------

The rest of the day passed with little excitement, other than engineering class. Mr. Jacobson had had the students disengage the automatic sprinkler system before setting different materials ablaze and in flight via combustion. “Don’t tell administration, kiddies. I don’t want to get fired.” He had said.

After school, Peter was pretty happy about getting the time to buy his classic at Delmar’s. However, once again, patrol served to ruin everything. He hadn’t even had the suit on for thirty minutes when a crack addict stole his sandwich while he was directing a four-way intersection that’s street lights had gone out. He had called out to the man, about to web his sandwich back, when the man threw the sandwich in the street in surprise, where it was promptly crushed by a dump truck.

Peter was very upset about his ruined dinner. He liked his sandwiches squished down flat, but not paper thin.

It didn’t stop there.

Karen also insisted that he look into a police chase all the way in The Bronx. He deduced that something was wrong with the A.I.’s protocols because he was supposed to be alerted to _nearby_ crimes. He was branching out, but primarily did his work in Queens. While he always wanted to help people, he spent more time traversing so far North, that by the time he had gotten there, the police were putting the two perpetrators in handcuffs.

Then, Karen had kept him in upper Manhattan for the rest of the night, and Peter couldn’t blame her. He couldn’t look that woman who was being groped and manhandled in the eye and simply tell her, “Sorry, I don’t really do much work in Harlem. Maybe get raped in Queens?” If only he could be of assistance to everyone everywhere without running himself into the ground.

On the way home, he had to stop in Central Park to get a cat out of the tree, he had to stop in Hell’s Kitchen to break up a gang brawl, and he had to rescue car accident victims from under their vehicles in Brooklyn. Peter nearly blew up at Karen for informing him of a grocery store robbery on Staten Island, which was physically impossible for him to get to in time. He couldn’t help everybody.

The absolute worst part was the bright red, white, and blue police lights contrasting with yellow CAUTION tape outside one of the apartment complexes down the street from Peter’s own building. After Peter asked for the report, Karen informed him that the suspect had entered the building asking about amenities before opening fire. They had killed one person behind the front desk, and injured several people who lived in the apartment.

Peter climbed through his window, an hour earlier than the previous night, but still, this patrol seemed much worse. “So, Karen, we saved a cat, kept some stupid thugs from tearing at their own throats, and pulled some scared, but unharmed people from their tumbled cars. But we let someone die right here in Queens. Down the street. Why?”

There was a pause, as if the A.I. was thinking about it’s response. Very slowly, Karen replied, “I’m sorry, Peter. I was just alerting you about potential threats.”

Peter ripped off his mask and threw it against the wall. “Yeah, well, some threats, huh Karen. I might as well just go back to doing things myself.” He sighed, realizing that instead of spending his free lab time with Tony tomorrow working on personal projects, he would have to be fixing whatever wires Karen had managed to get crossed.

Peter fully stripped from the elastic, sweaty suit. He felt absolutely disgusting. Two full days of school with two extended Spider-Man patrols made his skin feel incredibly sticky, and his hair uncomfortably greasy. He brushed his hands through his curls and felt the oily clumps between his fingers. His face pinched in repulsion. Regardless of the time, and all he had to do, he knew that a shower would make him feel much better, both physically and mentally.

Peter first made a pit stop in the kitchen, where he only had the last two granola bars to eat. A meal fit for a teenage superhero. He paired it with more peanut butter from the jar in his backpack. None of it tasted very good, but he knew he needed to eat. He then grabbed his towel and washcloth from the tiny closet outside of his and May’s bathroom, and got ready for his shower. He turned on the hot water, letting the steam fill up the entire room. The experience was as close to a sauna as he could get, and the humid air was doing wonders for the little bit of leftover congestion he’d been struggling with all day.

His phone was full of notifications about the emergency that was in such a close proximity to his apartment. He quickly scrolled right through them and found sixteen texts and three missed calls from May. That wasn’t right? Why hadn’t they come through his suit? Peter just rolled his eyes as yet another problem of Karen’s had presented itself. He read through the texts and responded, telling May that he was all right and back home. Before he even set his phone down, he saw the three dots indicating that May was texting back. It was simple, like Peter preferred in this moment, “Great, honey. I larb you.” She attached a heart emoji, to which Peter sent one back.

Once May had discovered Peter’s heroics, she stayed pretty up to date with the news. Not only was she looking out for her nephew, but she also liked to stay informed about the few things that Spider-Man couldn’t do, and about the few people that Spider-Man couldn’t save. She knew how seriously Peter took his newfound responsibility, and she always wanted to be a comforting hand whenever things didn’t go the way that he had hoped. It was a quality that Peter didn’t always recognize, but deeply appreciated.

Peter also saw that Ned had texted him nearly a dozen times, but he really didn’t want to have to text his friend about his failed acts as Spider-Man tonight. He shut off his phone, and then finally got to his shower.

\-------------------------------------------------

After his shower, Peter felt decently refreshed. His head was a bit clearer, and his mood a bit lifted. He would get Karen sorted out, and then be back in action, present where he was needed most.

Peter crossed over to his desk area, pulling his backpack up into his lap. The clock read 12:03am. Time for homework. His first course of action was to text MJ for any and all notes they had gone over for the biology unit test he had tomorrow- No. Today. He could start on his _The Great Gatsby_ paper, then.

The English paper had to be at least fifteen-hundred words, and while that certainly wasn’t nearly the longest paper Peter had been required to write, it was still pretty substantial. However, he basically had a template for his paper because of his presentation. It wouldn’t take too incredibly long. He guessed an hour and a half tops.

About halfway through writing his paper, MJ texted Peter back.

The screen read, “Whaddup dork”

“Ya know. Homework” Peter replied.

“You probably don’t even need these notes, stuffs super easy”

“IK. but it would make me feel better just to see them”

“Whatever you say” MJ sent the pictures.

Peter smiled as he zoomed in on the little doodles that littered the margins of MJ’s notes. He knew that he really should be working, but chatting with MJ and keeping the conversation flowing felt much more important. “Cool drawings”

“Thanks”

There were a few moments where both teens were silently staring at their phones. MJ broke through the slight tension. “It sounds weird but drawing helps me focus more in class”

Peter jumped to reply, “Its not weird. Its just like how people tap or bounce their foot”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen you sit still in class”

Peter blushed a little, thinking about MJ glancing at him in class. It was now or never. “Oh so you watch me in class?” He added a sly smirking emoji.

“How can I not??? You shake like a rocket about to launch”

The small banter continued back and forth for another ten or so minutes. There were important discussions about body posture, hydrogen and covalent bonds, and how easily MJ could draw a cartoon caricature of their biology teacher. Eventually MJ called it a night. “You better get back to work Pete. We got practice tomorrow.”

Peter felt that sickening drop in his stomach. He had sort of forgotten about practice. He glanced at the clock. Three bright red numbers, 1:07am, blinked at him. He quickly ended their chat, “I’ll be rested. See you tomorrow. Bye.”

Peter just let the quiet vibration of his phone indicate that MJ had sent him a similar “goodbye.”

He tried to dive back into his paper, but he was still a bit excited off of some dopamine and oxytocin. He decided to look over his study materials for the physics unit test. Physics was incredibly easy for Peter, and he barely even skimmed through the pages. After determining that he would be stuck in his puppy love/crush high for a bit of time, he forced himself to get back in tune with his paper.

At 2:13am, Peter had finished his paper. Was it A+ quality? No, but it was definitely a substantial paper. He used his “Tools” and noted a fourteen-hundred-eighty-nine word count. Close enough. He could barely keep his eyes open, and decided against reading through it fully, as every English teacher liked to assure him was crucial in any written assignment.

Peter printed his paper, got everything packed back up for school, and then crawled under the covers. The study guides would have to wait another night. That history one was going to take especially long. He felt that fear creeping up on him again. He had lab tomorrow. When would he find time to do those study guides? And then Thursday was training. And then he wouldn’t have time to fill them out that night. And then, and then, and then. . . Peter fell asleep.

\-------------------------------------------------

At 5:25am, Peter tried and failed to smile at himself in the mirror. About three hours of sleep painted an ugly picture on his face. He had puffy bags under his eyes, nasty crusted spit that nearly trailed down his neck, and his acne had gotten worse, despite having showered after patrol. He gently brought his hand up to brush lightly against the side of his cheek. He recoiled slightly at the touch. The embedded cysts were already becoming painful.

Flipping on his bedroom light also proved that this would definitely be another hoodie day. Just the thought of those fluorescent lights nearly made Peter dizzy.

Despite his growling stomach, on his way out the door, he decided to skip out on breakfast, as the thought of food made him feel a little nauseous.

He made his regular subway train, and once again found himself walking into school before most of the school buses had left Midtown Tech’s garage. He was a bit disappointed that MJ didn’t meet him at his locker. She must have already arrived. The staircase up to the library felt longer than it had on Monday, and he decided he would finish his journey to the team’s regular meeting space with his eyes closed. His Spidey-sense would keep him from hitting anything, and he doubted anyone would take much notice to him. Besides, he needed all the rest he could get.

Upon the sound of too loud laughter, _Gosh, it’s way too early for that,_ Peter thought to himself, he opened his eyes and quickened his pace to their table. He was the last one to arrive, except for Ned.

“Good morning, Peter. You’re right on time.” MJ greeted him.

“Good morning.” He took his usual seat, wondering where Ned was. He pulled out his phone, skipped past his “unreads” and asked Ned where he was.

About fifteen minutes into practice, Peter discreetly saw Ned’s response.

“Im finishing my paper. MJ can b mad all she wants.”

Peter smirked and shook his head. At least he hadn’t procrastinated on his paper like Ned had.

Ned added another text, “Did u finish yours”

Peter sent a quick “yup” just as MJ told him to put his phone away, as they were simulating a real competition. “I don’t want to see it out again.”

“Sorry.” Peter ducked his head a little bit. He knew that MJ would treat him just like everyone else on the team. It was another thing he really admired about her. She tried her best to always keep things fair.

MJ continued with her show of force. “Since you seem a bit distracted today, Peter, why don’t you get us started with the third question.”

“Okay.” Peter answered a bit awkwardly before reading the question concerning economics aloud. He wasn’t always so confident without Ned around. He wished that his friend was here right now instead of writing an essay he had had ample time to finish. Instead, he got to feel Flash’s mean eyes on him when he stuttered through the term “inventory investment.” It wasn’t one of his better Decathlon practices.

\-------------------------------------------------

Peter and MJ slowly walked to biology together.

“Sorry about practice.” MJ started.

Peter waved it off. “Nah, don’t worry about it. You were just doing your captain stuff. I’m just really tired this morning, and with Ned gone. . .”

“Yeah, he texted me this morning and said he needed more time to work on his English paper.” MJ rolled her eyes.

“Looks like Ned put it off a bit too long.” Peter asked, “What about your paper?”

“Oh, I don’t have Smithers. Mr. Locke didn’t assign a paper, just a presentation.” MJ answered.

“Yeahyeahyeah, you don’t have Smithers. I knew that. I knew that.” Peter did know that, but his scattered brain helped him forget, and made him look like he doesn’t listen, and made him look like he doesn’t care enough about MJ’s schedule, and made him-

Peter cut himself off from his thoughts. There was no way that MJ was overthinking this the way that he was. He started anew. “So, you ready for the bio test today?”

“Yeah. I’m not too worried.” MJ answered quickly. She then felt that the silence was becoming too long, and they still had another hallway to walk before they made it to class. “Could you understand my notes okay?”

“Oh yeah. Real easy. You have really nice handwriting.” Peter complimented, keeping his eyes trained on the hallway, and nowhere near MJ.

“Thanks.” MJ blushed. “Guess it’s just the artist part of me, or whatever.” _That sounded stupid,_ she thought to herself.

“Yeah, totally. My handwriting could never look that neat.” Peter admitted.

It was MJ’s turn to give a compliment, per the protocol of talking to one’s crush. “I’ve seen it at practice and in competition. It’s good, too.”

“Thanks.” Peter smiled with his head down.

That was the last of their conversation before heading into class and sitting at desks all the way across the room from each other.

\-------------------------------------------------

Peter felt pretty good about his last biology unit test. It had been all multiple choice, and he would most likely have the results by the end of the afternoon. Taking a test had also given him lots of energy. He was beginning to ride his “I only slept a few hours last night and everything is fine” high, and it got him through history, before being boosted even higher during gym class.

He finally got to meet up with Ned in fourth period, Algebra II. Ms. Griffin had told them that they would get the entire class period to work on their study guide or run through practice problems. The only rules were that it had to be silent, and they had to work on something math related.

Peter minimized a couple of Algebra II powerpoints that he could pull up quickly if Ms. Griffin were to walk by. He then proceeded to chat with Ned via a Google Hangout.

Ned started, “I can’t believe Mrs. Smithers would do us dirty like that.”

“Yeah, it seems pretty pointless to have to do something in addition to a presentation.”

“It was definitely way too much. I don’t even know what I was writing. I think I repeated myself two or three times in one paragraph.”

“Dude, we literally had weeks to work on it. Why did you have to blow it off and duck out on practice this morning?”

“Duh, to work on the extra word count.”

“Extra word count?”

“Yeah, the extra five-hundred words Mrs. Smithers assigned to the paper last night.”

Peter felt panic beginning to set in. “What are you talking about?!”

“I sent you texts, and don’t you check your emails?!?! She put it out to the class last night that because presentations were going so well, she wanted our papers to be longer, and-”

Peter quit reading and checked his student email address. Sure enough, he had received an email at 7:45pm the previous day from Mrs. Smithers. Enclosed was her conditions that their _The Great Gatsby_ papers now had to be five-hundred words longer. No late admissions allowed. No exceptions.

Despite how ridiculous he may have looked, Peter’s hands shot to the back of his head and his eyes widened in exasperation. He furiously began typing again. “Dude! Mine was barely under fifteen-hundred words! I can’t write five hundred words before fifth period!”

“Let me see what I can do. Maybe I can share. . .”

Both Ned and Peter were quickly trying to come up with how to get Peter’s word count boosted, and their sheer intensity was quite distracting to the class. The clacking of keys was pretty obnoxious, as Peter’s frustrations were being pounded out in the only way that he could. It caught the attention of Ms. Griffin.

Peter and Ned had barely noticed their teacher’s presence when she called out directly behind them, “Mr. Leeds. Mr. Parker. Gatsby papers? Shut your laptops now and work on the practice problems on the board for the rest of class.”

Peter’s face was red with anger, but mostly embarrassment. He absolutely hated being called out in front of the class and feeling everyone’s eyes on him. Even if it was only in pity, those looks always bothered him.

Ned, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all. “Ms. Griffin, if you could please-”

“No. Math problems, now, or the two of you can head to Principal Morita’s office. In fact, why don’t you go out into the hall, Mr. Leeds. You must be comfortable enough with Algebra II anyways if you feel the need to work on other class homework.”

Ned slowly gathered his things and headed towards the door. “Sorry, Ms. Griffin.” He cast one last look behind him at Peter’s back. He could tell that his friend was nearly panting with worry, fear, and embarrassment. He wished he would have been more adamant about making sure Peter had discovered Mrs. Smithers’ email.

Peter wished that he would have talked back to Ms. Griffin, and then maybe he would be out in the hallway and not stuck in this windowless classroom with so many kids who had just witnessed his scolding. He was now all alone at his table, and as hard as he tried to do the simple math problems on the board, and act as if he wasn’t bothered, he wasn’t fooling anyone. The more time passed, the redder his ears grew, and the hotter his face felt. His notebook paper remained empty. He had about thirty-eight minutes to think about the English paper he had just botched and how stupid he felt.

Once the bell finally rang, he raced out of the classroom faster than the time he had left his freshman chemistry class after he’d started crying, thinking about his murdered uncle. Ned was already up and hot on his heels. They both skipped the cafeteria and headed to the band room, their typical lunchroom whenever they had reading or writing to catch up on.

Peter whipped his phone out, scrolling through his “unreads” from Ned. “How could I have been so stupid. This is absolutely ridiculous! Five-hundred more words! Why in the Hell-”

Ned let Peter rant without adding any input.

Peter dropped himself to the ground, cross-legged. He accidentally tore the zipper off of his backpack in his haste to get it open. “Great, more to fix,” he muttered to himself. “Alright, c’mon. Help me.”

\-------------------------------------------------

They both worked as quickly as possible, but it took a decent amount of time to fish through Peter’s paper and figure out when and where it was appropriate to add certain sentences. Ned nibbled on his sack lunch throughout, and even offered Peter half of his sandwich, who snapped a refusal. When lunch had ended, Peter only had around sixteen-hundred-forty-five words.

He then had to print his new copy off at the library, where the line was much too long for him to get to class on time. Ned had come with him, but Peter knew that his friend had helped him enough. He initiated their handshake. “Sorry about snapping a bit, man. Thanks for the help. You don’t have to stay.”

“You sure?” They finished with their index fingers pointed towards one another.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. There’s nothing more we can do.” Peter moved up one place in line.

“Okay. Sorry again, Pete. See you in seventh.” Ned tried to smile.

“Yeah, see yuh.” Peter gave a half-hearted wave.

The line moved quicker than Peter thought, but still brought him through Mrs. Smithers door about ten minutes late.

“Mr. Parker. A little last minute printing, I presume?” The English teacher asked passively.

“Yes, Mrs. Smithers.” Peter handed her his paper, once again feeling eyes on him, and hearing the blaring silence.

“Have you got a pass?” Mrs. Smithers asked.

Peter sighed, not angry, but upset. “No.”

She seemed to take pity on the poor boy, who she could see was quite flustered. “Well, don’t worry about it this time. I’m sure it was just because of the printing, and that it won’t happen again.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Smithers.” Peter really appreciated the small kindness. He sat down in his seat, and laid his head on his arms on the table. He was trying to block out his classmates' stares, but also trying to find a few seconds to rest his eyes.

He had been running pretty pedal-to-the-metal since the early morning, and now, he could feel himself crashing. His eyes, and the space behind them, felt so hot, and his head was starting to pound. He could really use a nap, but he knew that falling asleep during his peers’ presentations was both rude and disrespectful. He lifted his head, but kept his chin rested on his hands. Maybe after class, he could run into the restroom and splash some cool water in his face. After all, he still had a physics unit test the next hour, and he needed to be awake and focused for it.

\-------------------------------------------------

The school day felt like it had dragged much longer than it should have.

After fifth period, Peter had rejuvenated himself for all of six minutes with a generous helping of cold water.

His physics unit test went well, but he didn’t feel that he had performed as well as he had on previous tests. Typically, he could make his way through a test, and then complete the two bonus problems on the back with ample time to go over his entire test before class ended. Today, however, he barely got through the final problem, and had to leave the bonus questions blank. He didn’t even get a chance to go over his work. Hopefully, he hadn’t made any rookie mistakes that would cause him to groan and shake his head whenever the class got to see their graded tests. Sometimes, it was even something as simple as accidentally having a negative sign instead of a positive. Even though these were typically just half-point deductions, all points are points, and can determine the difference between a B+ and an A-.

Peter took engineering as a chance to try and get a quick power nap in before patrol, but Mr. Jacobson’s constant shenanigans didn’t really allow for that. No one can sleep in a class where the teacher is continuously clattering entire boxes of screw and nails to the floor, and yelling too loudly over the buzzing and hammering of an industrial class, especially an enhanced teen. The never-ending, irregular noises made Peter’s headache even worse, and he was extremely grateful to get out of there when the bell finally rang.

He knew that he would have to cap his patrol at 7:00pm if he wanted to be able to hang out with Tony for a few hours at the lab. He bought his classic at Delmar’s and started eating it before the patrol even began. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

The squished #5 with pickles tasted flavorless, and it was more of a chore for Peter to eat than a delicacy. He hadn’t really wanted it to begin with, but he was convinced that if he took a bite, it would kick-start his hunger, and that he would have it scarfed down in minutes. It just made him nauseous. He ate half of the six-inch sub, wrapped the rest up for later, and webbed it up where no one would be able to bother it, not even the birds.

Peter activated his mask. “Okay, Karen, remember, we want to keep this pretty local, alright.”

The A.I. responded positively. “Of course, Peter. I have reports of a carjacking on the upper-west side of The Bronx.”

\-------------------------------------------------

At 8:15pm, Peter found himself crashing into the side of STARK tower. He climbed the rest of the way up the vast, bulletproof windows to where Tony would have his suit extracted as he was walking into the building. He slammed himself in through the doors; they may have even been locked, but that didn’t really configure in Peter’s head.

“Jeez, kid. You can knock you know. You nearly scared the pants off me.” Tony’s back was to Peter, his focus on a holographic spreadsheet in front of him, and had he seen the boy’s face, he may have used a different choice of tone.

Having heard no greeting or reply, Tony turned around, and saw Peter, his mask off, heading into the bathroom, presumably to get changed into a comfier, lab-friendly set of clothes. Tony thought that he’d heard some pretty heavy panting accompanying Peter’s movements. Alarms began to go off in Tony’s head. Was he okay? Was he hurt?

Tony hurried over to the bathroom door, grateful to not notice any blood trailing towards the door. But that didn’t mean the teen wasn’t hiding an injury. “Hey, Pete. Are you okay in there?”

“I’m fine.” Peter spat back.

Tony physically recoiled at the bite in Peter’s voice. He tried to keep a soft approach, hoping to calm the kid down. “You seem really upset, Pete. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Inside the bathroom, Peter ripped himself from the suit. “Just, give me a minute, okay.”

“You aren’t hurt, right? It’s okay to be upset about that, but you still need to tell me if something’s wrong, or, if you need my help.” After getting no response, Tony knocked on the door. “Peter?”

Hidden behind the door, Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, okay! Please, just let me get changed! I feel like crap, and you’re making this into more than it is.”

Although Peter couldn’t see him, Tony crossed his arms, scowling. “More than it is, huh? You _broke_ my doors, Peter. What’s this all about?”

As quickly as it had boiled inside of him on his way to the tower, Peter’s fury faded. He sighed loud enough for Tony to hear. “I’m sorry about your doors, Mr. Stark. I can help fix them if you want.”

“You know I don’t really care about _that_ , kiddo.” Tony looked behind him and saw a piece of one of the door’s hinges on the ground. “I just want to know what’s eating you.”

Peter opened the door, changed back into his hoodie and a pair of loose joggers he’d brought for their lab session. He pushed his suit into Tony’s hands. “It’s really just Karen that’s been bothering me lately.”

Tony had a hard time believing that Peter’s suit was the cause of his troubles, but kept it to himself. “What’s up with her?”

Whiny frustration creeped into Peter’s voice. “She just keeps sending me all over the place. She used to alert me of local crime, but yesterday, and even today, she had me going up to The Bronx.”

Tony shook his head and clutched his left wrist, one of his nervous tics, as a small wave of anxiety crept up on him. “Yeah, that’s a big no-no. No more going past Manhattan, alright.” He hated the idea of Peter being too far. If Peter got hurt too far from the tower, Tony didn’t know if he would be able to get to him in time, even with the suit. “You’re a neighborhood Spider-Man. Specifically a Queen’s one. We’re going to fix it tonight, but if Karen ever does that again, I don’t want you going so far.”

Tony’s quick, but valid, helicoptering rubbed Peter a bit the wrong way. Tony didn’t think he could handle it. He could handle it. He’d make himself handle it. “I mean, it wouldn’t be right to just ignore it. If people need help, I should be there.”

Tony was a bit confused by Peter’s claim, as only a few seconds ago, he was the one upset about Karen alerting him about the long distanced crime in the first place. “Not in these scenarios-”

“That’s my job: helping people. Maybe Karen’s right, and I should just keep her the way that she-”

“Peter, _no_. She’s not working the way _I_ designed her to work.”

“But it’s _my_ suit. You said it yourself, it belongs to me, and-”

“Yeah, the spandex is yours, but they’re _my_ protocols, Pete.” Tony snatched the mask from Peter’s loose hold.

“Hey!” Peter attempted to grab it back from him. “I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want to mess with Karen!”

“That’s not really your decision, okay. And you’ll thank me later. Come on, let’s get to work.” Tony started to head towards the stairs, which would lead them down to the main lab. He then started muttering quietly to himself, “It makes no sense for him to be swinging across the entire city every night and. . .”

“Mr. Stark! Stop!” Peter used a little Spidey-strength to pull his mask back from Tony. “Please, I want you to keep it the way it is.”

Tony was irritated by Peter’s brief show of force, but then, he was taken aback by the slightly desperate look in the boy’s eyes. “What’s going on with you, Peter?”

“Nothing, nothing, I’m fine.” Peter quickly dropped his eyes on to his mask, as if he were seeing it for the first time. “I just was a bit tired from patrol today, and just upset I couldn’t be here earlier. It’s really all good now. And I can fix the doors-”

“Forget the doors, Pete.” Tony decided to start his course of action on getting to the bottom of Peter’s irrational decisions with some light prying. “You could get here earlier if you weren’t going to The Bronx, right? And, with a little less swinging, you’d probably be less tired.”

“Yeah, I know. But, it’s fine, Mr. Stark.” Peter attempted to change their subject matter. “Can we just work on our own projects tonight in the lab, please?”

“Whatever you say, Pete. It seems you’re the man in charge.” Tony kept his tone heavy, letting Peter know he wasn’t happy. While he felt a bit mean about it, it tended to keep the kid more honest. Tony led the way, slowly, down the stairs.

Peter easily picked up on Tony’s signals, and started fidgeting his hands as he walked behind Tony, instead of beside him. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony wouldn’t let him quit there. “Can I ask what Karen had you doing up north yesterday?”

“Uh, just a police chase thing. No big deal.” Peter didn’t need to mention that he hadn’t really aided in stopping the altercation, or catching the two bad guys.

Tony pried a bit. “Do you know what the damage was?”

After arriving late to the crime, Peter had then been on his way to Harlem, and hadn’t really taken stock in the damages the car chase had left. “Uh, nothing much.”

“That’s good.” Tony pried a bit more. “And, the people, too, right, nothing much damaged there?”

Had there been any casualties? Peter hadn’t followed up with Karen after leaving the scene. “Yup, it was all good.” He was starting to get uncomfortable. Couldn’t Tony move any faster down these stairs?

Tony looked at the news story on the police chase that he’d discreetly pulled up on his phone. Apparently, multiple cars had been struck, one even bouncing off of the assailants’ car into a head-on collision. Someone was also in the hospital with critical injuries. Clearly, Peter was lying, or, the hero had been so busy, he’d never learned the truth. The way Peter answered his next question would determine whether it was the former or the ladder. “Did you think you did a good job?”

“Yeah. Yes. I did.” Peter replied too quickly.

Tony noted that Peter was being defensive, and not to prove to Tony that he was doing a good job as Spider-Man, but to prove that to himself. Tony could practically feel the self-doubt radiating off of the teen.

There was a long stretch of silence before Tony had stepped off of the last stair. Peter still had a few more to go. Tony turned to face him. He was going to hit the nail on the head. He stayed especially up-to-date with Queens crime, because it was where his kid was _supposed_ to be most of the time. “Did you hear about that shooting at the apartm-”

“Mr. Stark, don’t do that.” Peter clenched his fists, and kept his eyes trained to the wall next to him. They felt a bit more watery than usual, and they were starting to burn.

“I was just wondering if-”

“No, you’re trying to make me feel bad, like I don’t already.” Peter admitted.

 _Now we’re getting there,_ Tony thought to himself. “No, Peter, I’m not trying to make you feel bad, and you shouldn’t feel bad about yourself. I’m trying to get you to understand that you can’t do so much at once. It’s too much. One hero can’t be in two places at once.”

Peter blinked a few times to force his tears to drain away. He still wouldn’t look at Tony.

“I want to get Karen back and running the way that she’s supposed to, where you’re doing most of your crime fighting in Queens, or in the city, and more importantly, where you’re feeling good about your work.” Tony made his way up the stairs to Peter’s level and clapped him on the shoulder. “Because you’re doing amazing work, and I’m really proud of you for it. Happy keeps me updated, and you’re really saving lives out there.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. We can fix her, I guess.” Peter didn’t sound very sincere.

Tony sighed, disappointed that Peter didn’t seem as enthusiastic by his praise. “Is Karen the only thing that’s been bothering you lately, because honestly, you look pretty terrible, kiddo.”

No, Karen wasn’t the only thing bothering Peter. In fact it wasn’t even what was bothering him the most. His awful patrol had only been the icing on the cake for one of his worst days ever. But, he didn’t think that Tony would want to hear all about his stupid English class mistake, or being embarrassed in front of the class, or running on three hours of sleep, and frankly, he didn’t want to share it. “Just a bit tired. It’s the week before finals, so, you know.”

Tony gestured at Peter’s body. “Yeah, but you look a bit more than ‘just tired.’ How’ve you been eating?”

Peter remembered that he never recovered the leftover remnants of his sandwich he’d webbed up earlier. Come to think of it, he’d skipped out on both breakfast and lunch today. He really wasn’t eating much. “Enough. Maybe a little less than usual with how busy I am, but I’ve been doing alright.”

“Even ‘a little less’ isn’t enough. Why don’t you get your station set up, and I’ll be right back with a snack.” Tony was already heading back up the stairs.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.” Peter tried to be polite, but the idea of food was still pretty nauseating to him.

Tony came back with an obnoxiously large Gatorade whey protein bar and three bottles of water. He placed the snack and two of the bottles on Peter’s desk, keeping one bottle to himself. “Eateth and drinketh thee.”

Peter started with the water, but kept the protein bar in its package. Hopefully, Tony would lose interest in whether he was eating it or not.

“So, you said pre-finals week too, right? Do you wanna just work on some of your study material, or whatever it is you’re doing, and I can take care of Karen?” Tony had begun getting his own station set up, Peter’s suit laid out on the table before him.

The thought of his Algebra II study guide briefly popped up, but Peter quickly decided that he really should help Tony with Karen. After all, if he needed to make the repairs himself one day, he would need to know how to do it the most quick and efficient way. And besides, the lab was supposed to be his escape. “Nah, there’s nothing really due tomorrow, just later in the week. I wanna help.”

Tony smiled, believing Peter. “Alrighty then. First, why don’t we go ahead and disassemble. . .”

Peter relaxed a bit and even unpackaged his protein bar. There’d be no harm or foul in taking some time to do what he _wanted_ to do.

\-------------------------------------------------

Peter thanked Happy as he dropped him off at his apartment. Tony had insisted he looked too worn down to web his way home. Traffic hadn’t been too bad, but Peter was still getting home at 10:50pm.

Repairing Karen had taken Peter and Tony a bit longer than they thought it would. However, Peter had managed to eat his entire protein bar, drink four water bottles, set up Karen’s perimeters with Queens, a tad bit of Brooklyn, and southern Manhattan, set his suit back up to receiving calls, texts, and alerts, and nothing had exploded. On lab nights, that was a major win.

Peter took the elevator upstairs, and upon entering his apartment, finally got to see Aunt May after nearly three days.

May was lounging on the coach in her pajamas, watching some late night television, a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream in her lap. “Hi, honey!”

Before she had a chance to get up, Peter wrapped his arms around her from behind the couch. “Hey, May.” He closed his eyes and let his head rest against her neck and shoulder, enjoying the warmth. Man, he was so tired.

May patted his hands, returning the hug. “How’s your week been?”

Peter stood, pulling away. “Oh, you know. It’s going alright.”

May smiled with her teeth, adored by her nephew’s blatant lie. “Well, you’ve been through this before, and the week’s already more than half-way over.”

Peter gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, I guess.” He still needed to actually complete his Wednesday night tasks before he considered himself half-way through the week. “But, I’ve still got some stuff to do tonight, so I can’t really chat.”

“Aw man! And I picked you up some ice cream to share with me.” May glanced at their freezer. “Your favorite.”

For the first time all week, food sounded delicious. Chocolate ice cream with peanut buttery swirls were only a few feet away. But Peter couldn’t. “I really can’t, May. There’s this math thing. I’m sorry.”

May waved it off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I know you’re a busy kid.”

“Yeah, I know it too. But I’m probably gonna head into my room for the night.” Peter kissed May on the cheek. “Night, love you.”

“I love you too, sweetie.” May called after him. “Make sure you wash your teeth and brush your face, or, I mean- Well, you know what I mean.”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah, I got it. Don’t worry.”

\-------------------------------------------------

After _brushing_ his teeth and _washing_ his acne covered face, Peter settled at his desk, pulling out his laptop and pulling up the math study guide. In addition to filling in the blanks with his answers, he also had to show his work on a separate piece of paper. This was probably going to take longer than he thought.

The first ten questions were all vocabulary, and didn’t require a lot of thought.

Then, Peter hit question 11a.. “Oh my gosh.” Peter scrolled, seeing the letters “b”, “c”, “d”, and “e”. “No, no, no, no. Are you freaking kidding me?!”

The whole study guide was littered with multi-part questions.

“ _Dammit!_ ” Peter pulled out his phone, quickly texting Ned, the only person he knew in the class. “PLZ SEND PICS OF STUDY GUIDE!” Now, Peter wasn’t usually one to copy homework straight from the source, but occasionally, there were special circumstances, like the time he’d gotten a mild concussion Spider-Manning, and he couldn’t tell the school about it, so they kept assigning him homework. Pre-finals week was another special circumstance.

“Oh my gosh, Griffin, you’ve gotta be joking.” Peter ran his hand through his hair. “Un- _freaking_ believable.” He spent a few minutes waiting for Ned to reply, but nothing indicated that his friend was even typing.

Peter sent a few more urgent texts, asking where Ned was and why he wasn’t answering. It wasn’t like it was extremely late. Surely, the guy in the chair wasn’t sleeping. Very quickly, it was occurring to Peter that he’d have to take care of this on his own.

Peter pulled out his two-inch ring math binder, opening it to his unit five notes. He then rolled his shoulders back, straightened himself in his chair, and set to work.

\-------------------------------------------------

It took nearly two and a half hours, a quick pit stop to the kitchen for some coffee that he rarely drank and didn’t like, and a few strung out curses he’d only ever heard his uncle use while installing an electric converter for their electric oven and range, but Peter finished his math study guide.

He didn’t even want to look at the clock. He felt absolutely drained. He dropped his head in his hands, not even pulling back at the flare of pain in his cheeks. His face felt oily again, as he’d definitely started sweating with frustration around question 73c.. He checked his phone, blatantly ignoring the three digits plastered right at the top. Ned still hadn’t responded.

Peter also felt stuck about what his next course of action should be. The fact that this study guide took him so long, and he had six more to go over the following night was startling. He didn’t know how long the Avengers training was going to last. Of course, most of the study guides probably wouldn’t be as extensive as this math one, or require shown work.

Peter’s feet were carrying him to his bed as he started to make up his mind. He could get up a little early tomorrow and start to work on his biology study guide. Then, throughout the day, whenever he had time, he could keep on working on them. By the time training was over, he probably wouldn’t have too much to work on, and he may get to go to bed earlier than any of the previous nights of the week.

Peter hit the sheets, and fell asleep to the thought of enjoying getting an extra hour of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo-whee!
> 
> This week is just getting tougher and tougher for poor Peter. 
> 
> "But I'm not done yet!" -Billy Mays
> 
> There's more coming next week! I hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> -WithACherryOnTop


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop! Whoop! Here we go! 
> 
> Similarly to my previous chapter, I still hear/think about the 0:23 - 0:44 of "Forever" by Labrinth. Peter is just flying down this hill, about to slam into that rocky bottom.
> 
> Also, WARNING: In this chapter, Peter has what I would call a "breakdown", but what some others may call a "panic attack". There's some crying and uncontrollable? hyperventilating. Everybody be careful.
> 
> This chapter is nearly 10K, which is super exciting to me! I hope you guys enjoy!

“Hey, man. I am so so sorry I couldn’t get you those pics. My parents took my phone for the night, and I didn’t see the texts until this morning, and I just- I’m just really sorry, man.” Ned walked alongside Peter before the bell that signaled to students that they needed to head to first period rang.

“It’s alright, Ned. Got it done.” Peter’s voice was almost non-existent. He had awoken that morning feeling extremely nauseous. Now, it wasn’t just food that put him off, but just walking around, sitting down, sipping water, anything and everything made him feel like he was going to throw up. He also hadn’t awoken any earlier than usual to work on his study guides. In fact, he’d slept in an extra ten minutes instead.

“Hey, Peter, I think you need to take it easy.” Ned tried not to stare at Peter’s gaunt face. “You really don’t look so hot. And, have you gotten acne before, as Spider-Man?”

Peter knew that his spot gel was ridiculously obvious. While the product was designed for pimples and small pockets of acne, he had smeared it all over his cheeks, almost to his jaw line. Cystic acne was the worst. It looked ugly, and it was really starting to hurt. “Never before now.”

“So it isn’t normal. I think you’re getting sick, man.” Ned’s voice was laced with concern.

“No. Just tired. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Peter started to split from Ned, heading to his biology class. Maybe he could lay at his desk a few extra minutes before class started. “See you.”

“See you, man.” Ned waved, a sad look on his face.

\-------------------------------------------------

Biology was really nice for Peter. They were just going over tests from the previous day, which he had gotten a decent 97% on. There wasn’t a lot of thought required on his part, and his fried brain was getting a break. A few times, he even noticed MJ shooting glances his way, and then she would start scribbling on a notebook in front of her. At the end of class, she showed him a drawing she’d made. It looked nearly identical to the one she’d drawn of him while he had been in detention last fall.

Unfortunately, Peter couldn’t make it through history. He remembered looking at the Smart Board and hearing something about Hitler’s rise to power, and then suddenly, he was being shaken. The unexpected movement caused his Spidey-sense to go haywire, and he ended up looking like a complete spaz in front of the entire class. It not only humiliated him, but also Betty, who was just trying to calmly wake him up before the teacher noticed he’d fallen asleep. Thankfully, most of the other students were too tired to pay any mind to it, and they all listened in boredom to a brief lecture on the importance of getting at least eight hours of sleep every night, as if that were even an option.

Why, of all reasons, they were doing the Pacer test during gym class that day, Peter would never know. While he usually had to severely downplay his abilities to keep his nerdy facade, he didn’t have to try very hard this time. He made it to 55 before calling it quits and heading into the bathroom to dry heave. It was particularly unpleasant, as he didn’t have much to bring up. Maybe the last traces of some old coffee and Gatorade’s peanut buttery whey?

Upon walking into Ms. Griffin’s door did it really dawn on Peter that he was taking his final for Algebra II for the school year. The test was completely stacked, created for students who were well studious and ready for it’s tough problems and extensive vocabulary. Peter was guessing that he maybe got a “B-” on it, which would really really bother him when he felt well enough to care. He would still definitely get an “A” in the class, but he usually prided himself in getting all “A’s” on his finals.

During lunch, Ned forced Peter to take a few bites of a PB&J, and Jason offered him half of his king-sized Kit-Kat bar. There was nothing like processed sugar to perk Peter up. A little light gathered in his eyes, and his skin appeared a little less pasty. He actually even tried to start in on his biology study guide before the bell for fifth period rang.

During English, it was the same as the rest of the week had been- listening to other student’s presentations. While Mrs. Smithers didn’t permit anybody to be working on anything during presentations, Peter still had his study guide out and tried to answer a few questions between presenters.

While Peter had hoped that physics would be another class period of going over their last unit test, or getting time to work on their study guides, he had no such luck. Instead, the forty-eight minute class was filled with cramming lots of little last minute information for their final. It required a lot of attention to detail, and Peter had a great deal of trouble focusing.

At the final period of the day, Peter and Ned sat together, working on their study guides together. The shop room was pretty quiet for once. One student had theorized that administration had reprimanded Mr. Jacobson for his activities. Apparently, the shop room was so loud, the principal could hear the constant yelling and explosions all the way in the front office. Whatever the reason was, Peter was glad he had time to work. However, by the end of the school day, he was still only half-way through his biology study guide.

According to the plan Peter had come up with on completing his study guides the night before, he should have been through biology, history and physical education by now. So much for getting a decent night’s sleep.

Happy was supposed to pick Peter up at his apartment at 4:00pm to head to the Compound, which meant he had nearly an hour and a half to get something to eat, and continue working on the study guides. Instead of his usual at Delmar’s, he got a bag of Doritos and a couple of different candy bars. That sugar had really given him a boost earlier in the day, and he supposed that he would need it during training, after training, and during his late-night homework.

\-------------------------------------------------

When Happy arrived right on time, Peter was just getting to the last five questions of his biology study guide. They were all pretty extensive. He had to create a Venn diagram comparing prokaryotic and eukaryotic cells. He had to draw and label the phospholipid bilayer. He had to draw and outline the Krebs cycle. He had to explain the cell cycle with outlines and pictures. He had to identify the different types of transport across the cell membrane.

Peter brought his backpack along with him in the car for the nearly two hour trip. Happy noticed Peter’s concentration and didn’t say or do too much to distract him, for which Peter was extremely grateful for. As they pulled up to the front doors of the Compound, Peter stuffed his complete biology study guide into his biology binder. He grabbed his backpack. “Thanks for the ride, Happy. See you later.”

“Yup, just text me when.” Happy pulled the car out.

\-------------------------------------------------

“Alright. Suit up.” Captain America called out to the team. His order was met with a few groans, Peter’s included.

“Oh, quit whining everybody.” Tony tapped the nanotech homing device on his chest, instantly covering himself with his suit.

“Don’t even start it, Stark.” Clint barked. “If I could get into these combat boots with the click of a button, I wouldn’t complain, but I can’t, so shut your mouth. You don’t know shit.”

Tony’s laugh echoed within his suit. “If you asked nicely, maybe I could make you some.”

“Yeah, for the hefty price of me kissing your ass.” Clint fired back.

Peter vaguely listened to the banter as he headed into the locker room to change. He’d brought his suit along like he did for every training session, but he’d also brought some gym shorts and a shirt. He was really hoping they’d just be doing some conditioning with a little hand-to-hand combat, but it seemed that the Captain had some drills in mind.

Peter couldn’t contain a gasp as he pulled his mask a little too quickly over his face. The extremely skin tight material wasn’t doing wonders for his sore and aching face. It made his cheeks feel like they were pulsing. Oh well, he’d have to deal with it. After all, this was no different than if he were going out for patrol.

“Alright everybody out!” Tony yelled into the locker rooms. “If y’all don’t hurry, I’m comin’ in and whippin’ everybody with rolled up wet towels.”

The team started to reassemble back on the training floor.

“Tony.” Steve sighed. “Can you ever be a bit more serious for training?”

“I’m always serious, Cap. Just look at my face.” Tony pointed at the seam of his helmet that resembled a mouth, which held the same tight grimace it always had.

“Uh-huh, right.” Steve rolled his eyes. He then raised his voice. “Alright, let’s get started.”

\-------------------------------------------------

They were taking a fifteen minute break, and Peter nearly collapsed on his way to the water fountain. They’d been going pretty hard for nearly an hour and a half, running different simulations and even doing a little partner work with mixed martial arts. His mask was pretty good at hiding his pained expressions every time Bucky slammed him to the ground. He really couldn’t afford a concussion on top of his headache. Tony, suit off, had been pretty focused on his session with Natasha, and didn’t come to his aid, and tell Bucky to take it easy, like he typically would. That must have all been a part of Steve’s plan in pairing partners.

Peter’s mask was also really good at absorbing all of the sweat pooling off of him. The rest of the team seemed alright, working up a healthy sweat and sipping at their water bottles, but not breathless and begging for gallons and gallons of cold water. Then again, everybody else wasn’t an enhanced teenager in high school.

Once Peter had finally received his fill of water, he slowly removed the mask from his face. Unfortunately, it still caught on one of the more mountainous cysts, which then busted open, causing a bead of pus followed by a droplet of blood to appear on his skin. He quickly headed to the locker rooms to wash his face off. He heard Steve call out behind him, “Hurry it up, Peter! We’re starting back up in a minute or two!”

Peter grabbed a paper towel to get the ugly gunk off of his face, and then washed his face with cold water. He started to raise his head, blinking water from off of his eyelashes, when he caught himself in the mirror. It was frightening, to say the least. He hadn’t looked this bad since the night he came home from homecoming. He was absolutely pallor, and looked one more takedown away from unconsciousness. He wasn’t bruised or anything, but his eyes were an ugly bloodshot, and his lips and gums were pale because he never had time to drink throughout the day.

Peter couldn’t let Tony see him like this. He gingerly pulled the mask back over his face and started heading back to the team. He turned around and-

“So. You’re gonna head back out there looking like that, huh?” Tony stood in the wide doorway.

“Mr. Stark, the blood wasn’t from a cut or anything. I’m just having some acne trouble, that’s all.” Peter tried to defend himself.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about. You look like you’re already six-feet under. I’m sending you home.” Tony stated matter-of-factly.

“Mr. Stark, please! I’m fine, I swear, and I really don’t want to miss training!” At this point, Peter couldn’t really tell if he never wanted to train again, or if he didn’t want the training to end. If he kept training, he might wind up in the Med-Bay looking at a penlight, taking a concussion test, but, if the training ended, he would have to go back to his homework, an idea that was nearly just as terrifying.

“No, Peter. You need to rest. May would totally agree with me on this. So get changed.” Tony started to leave the locker room. “Happy’s gonna be pulling up soon.”

“Mr. Stark, wait! You aren’t being fair! I feel okay, I just need a snack!” Peter hurried after him. “I even brought my own!” Sure, his snacks were loaded with no nutritional value, but it was still calories. When Tony showed no signs of stopping or changing his mind, Peter then turned to joking, getting desperate about being able to complete the Avenger’s training session. “I’m not myself right now, I just need a Snickers! I’ve got one, don’t worry!”

“Peter, enough!” Tony was starting to get scared by Peter. He was becoming extremely irrational in these past two days. Was it the pre-finals week badgering on him? If so, then Peter was prioritizing all of the wrong things. In Tony’s eyes, and what he had thought he, May, _and_ Peter had established, was that school came before Spider-Man. “You’re going home, and you’re gonna do your homework, which Happy has told me you still have, and then you’re going to get some sleep.”

Peter grit his teeth, hating to hear Tony mention his studies. The Avengers Compound was the last place he wanted, and expected, to hear about homework. “I’m not going.”

Tony raised his brow. He was gonna have to put his foot down. “Listen, Pete. I’m in charge here, and-”

“No, you aren’t.” Peter was starting to tremble. He didn’t think it was with rage, even though he was mad, but he just couldn’t stop shaking. The idea of defying Tony was really nerve-wracking, and it was making him anxious. Everyone’s eyes slowly shifting to the two of them wasn’t helping either. “Maybe you can tell me what to do at the tower, but not here. You aren’t the leader.”

Tony was more shocked than annoyed by the disrespect. It was a really childish claim that didn’t even bother him, but the way Peter had said it caught him completely off guard. The way he couldn’t detect Peter’s expression beneath the mask was unsettling too.

The silence in the room was Steve’s cue. “Hey, guys, let’s take it down a notch.”

“Don’t worry, Steve. I think he was just saying he’d listen to you.” Tony smiled passive-aggressively.

Steve started his evaluation. “What’s going on here?”

“I-”

Tony cut Peter off, drowning him out when he tried to carry on. “I’m sending him home because he’s unwell, and he doesn’t want to go. He’s got school stuff he still needs to do, and he needs to stay home and rest.”

Steve shifted his gaze to Peter, letting him explain his side of the story.

“Captain Rodgers, I know there’s some stuff I need to do, but I really want to finish training. I really do feel alright, and I’m not sick.” Peter pleaded his case.

“Not sick?!” Without thinking, Tony ripped Peter’s mask off.

Peter’s Spidey-sense had been a bit slower than usual these past few days, and it was too late to warn him about the removal of his mask. While his face was in near constant pain with his mask on, a fresh bolt crashed through it. He tried to conceal a cry as he brought his hands to his face.

Tony had the decency to look a little sheepish. “Oops. Sorry, Pete. I forgot.”

The small pus and blood clot that had formed had been torn off, causing Peter’s pore to ooze once more. Hot swelling began to fester around his cheek, and now, Peter really was angry, and embarrassed for the team to see his acne at its worst. “ _Ow! Dammit!_ Why’d you do that?!”

Steve cut Tony off before he could rebuke. “Peter, you do need to go home. Maybe wash up one more time, then get changed, and go home. You look more than under the weather.” While all of the Avengers couldn’t see much behind Peter’s hand cupped to his face, they could still tell his condition was not healthy, or functional, really.

“What?” If there were any color left in Peter’s face, it would have drained. “You’re kicking me out?”

Steve shook his head. “You’re not being sent home for getting in trouble, or getting kicked out. Listen son, being an Avenger is more than just the training and the fighting. I want you to be able to come back here tomorrow for the meeting, and be on your A-game. You can’t do that when you aren’t rested, focused, and healthy.”

Tony’s demeanor shifted to kind, and understanding. After all, he knew how much all of this meant to Peter, and it was very disappointing to have to leave early, and feel like you were being left out of something important. “Come on. Maybe, if you’ll let me, I’ll tag-along on the way home, and help you with your homework.”

“Mr. Stark, I don’t wanna do it.” Peter spoke quietly, and genuinely looked like he was one second away from breaking down. He really didn’t want to start on the long, painful process that was his homework. The clock was ticking, and he couldn’t push away his fear much longer.

Sam and Clint, who were a little less in tune to Peter’s emotions and schooling, started laughing immediately. To them, Peter was nothing more than a bratty teenager. “Awwwww, look at that! He doesn’t want to do his homework! Little brother wants to blow off his course load and hang out with the big boys!”

Steve cut it off pretty quick, seeing Peter’s distress. “Knock it off. Now!”

Neither of the two listened. Sam just rolled his eyes, laughing, “I swear, of all the melodramatic, melancholic, teenage angst shit, I never thought I’d hear this much whining about homework, a little cold, and some blemishes.”

That was Peter’s last straw. He quickly grabbed his backpack. He could feel himself starting to hyperventilate with rage, sadness, and fear. He needed to get out of here, and away from the team. He bolted out the door.

“Peter, wait!” Tony called out to him, worrying that Peter was in too bad a way to be leaving the Compound, but the troubled teen kept going.

\-------------------------------------------------

Peter jumped into the backseat of Happy’s car. He really wished that they were in a vehicle big enough to have a divider between them. He didn’t want Happy to witness his freakout which was already past ignoring or repressing. “Happy, go now, please!”

“Jesus, kid! Hold up a minute! What’s the problem?” Happy was taking in the wild look, and tears, in Peter’s eyes.

Peter shook his head hard. “Nothing! Nothing! Please, just go!”

“Are you alright?! Are you hurt?! Did something happen at training?!” Happy was getting ready to get out of the car and triage the kid in the backseat. Had the Avengers gone mad or something? Why was Peter leaving one of his second homes in such disarray?

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Peter yelled, trying to make himself believe it too.

Happy used his bodyguard voice. “No, you’re not fine. And we’re not leaving the Compound until you have calmed down, you’ve told me what’s wrong, and The Boss says you’re good to leave.”

“No, Happy! I can’t!” Peter hid his head in his hands, sobs starting to mingle with his heavy pants. “I need to go home!” Train. Don’t train. Go home. Don’t go home. Do homework. Don’t do homework. Peter had no idea what he needed to do anymore. Crying seemed like a decent option he had yet to consider this week.

“Why do you need to go home, Peter? Is it May?” Happy asked, concerned that maybe a family issue had come up.

Peter shook his head.

Happy felt a bit lost. He wasn’t familiar with how to handle a crying kid, but he knew that Peter could start hyperventilating eventually, and that could be dangerous. “I’m calling Tony, alright. I think he might be able to help, because I don’t really know how-”

“No, please don’t! I don’t wanna see him!” Peter gasped between a few words.

“Did you guys fight or something?”

Peter shrugged his shoulders.

Happy tried to piece it together. Tony had told him to come pick up the kid because he wasn’t feeling well. Peter came running out of the building. Peter was sobbing in the car right now, still in the suit. Peter doesn’t want to see Tony. Peter is very, _very_ upset. He could feel Peter’s meltdown shaking the entire car.

Happy sighed, building a plan. “Alright, kiddo, here’s the deal. I won’t get Tony, and I’ll start driving, but. . . I want you to do something for me, okay?”

Peter sniffled. “‘Kay.”

“I want you to get your suit loose. You don’t have to take it off completely, but get it loose off of your upper body, so you can breathe better.” Happy shifted the car into drive. “You doin’ it?”

“Mh-hm.” Peter hiccupped.

“Alright, good.” Happy checked the rearview mirror to see that Peter’s suit was draped at his waist. The boy’s chest and skin looked red and flushed. He probably had some kind of fever. “Now, put your hands behind your head, and tuck your head down between your knees.”

Peter did so, trying to control his emotions. It just seemed impossible! He was angry at Tony for bringing the whole mess out in front of the team. He was absolutely furious at Sam and Clint, who had no idea about all he had been through his entire life, and how difficult it was to be a teenager at Midtown Tech. He was still mad at Mrs. Smithers for assigning that extra word count. He was still embarrassed about Ms. Griffin yelling at him in front of the class. He was angry that his face hurt really bad. He was still irritated that Karen had sent him to stupid places that inadvertently got people killed. He was sad he couldn’t see his aunt more. And he was terrified of what faced him when he returned home.

How he felt, and how he’d been feeling the past few days, he simply couldn’t take anymore. The exhaustion, the nausea, the _headaches,_ the eye aches, and all of the stress. Make sure you turn this in. Don’t forget that. Armed robbery in Harlem. Practice starts at 6:15am sharp. Eat a protein bar. Be sure to brush your teeth and wash your face. He simply didn’t have time for anything, and now, he had to focus, and study, and write, for _hours,_ all while feeling this pained, tired, and hopeless.

Running it all over in his head sent a new wave of sobs and tears through Peter. “God, I’m so tired!” He could feel a multitude of fluids pouring out of his face. Now he would probably become congested, and have an even worse headache. The thought made him cry harder.

“Peter, take some deep breaths, buddy.” Happy’s heartstrings felt pulled. Clearly, the kid was more than just tired. He wished that Peter would tell him what all was going on.

\-------------------------------------------------

Within five minutes, Peter had pulled himself back together. He had to. After all, he had work to do. He sat up, and wiped his eyes and nose once more with the napkin Happy had tossed back to him. “Sorry about that Happy.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” Happy was happy he’d been there to coach Peter through a decently major break down. However, his voice was still laced with concern. “But, I’ve gotta know. What’s going on?”

Peter took some time to ponder the question. Everytime someone had asked him how he was doing or what was bothering him, he’d been pretty quick to answer with the typical “fine’s” and “alright’s.” But, he really needed to think about it, and answer the question. What really was wrong? Where was it stemming from? He found his answer. “School has just been a lot, lately.”

Happy nodded his head in understanding. “Yeah, I heard it was your big pre-finals week going on.”

Peter was immensely grateful that Happy hadn’t made fun of him for being so bothered by school. Thinking back now, he knew Clint and Sam were just trying to have some fun and maybe lighten the mood, but at the time, it had only angered him. Now, he felt bad by the harsh way he had reacted.

Peter sighed, loudly. “It’s just. . . It’s such a big week, and there is so much I’ve gotta be preparing for. I want to get the straight A’s, and it’s usually this week’s course work that matters when it comes to my grades, not the finals.”

Happy continued nodding.

“And everything that can go wrong has gone horribly wrong this week.” Peter closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the head rest.

Happy listened and didn’t think it was his place to meddle into what had gone wrong, but he could try and offer some comfort. He pulled a water bottle from the cooler seated underneath the car’s dashboard, and handed it back to Peter. “Well, at least the week’s almost over.”

“Yeah.” Peter took a few swigs. “And, thank you, Happy, for helping me there. I just got a bit overwhelmed.”

Happy kept on his crusade of kindness and wisdom. “I know I’m not the expert on the ‘smarts’ stuff, kid, but I can guarantee you, that, with your caliber, a B+ isn’t gonna mean an MIT reject, or wherever it is you want to go for college.”

Peter smiled a little. “Yeah, I know. I just like to be perfect.”

“I think most of the team would argue that you already are, and I know your aunt would too.” Happy finished.

“Thanks, I’m feeling a bit better about it all now.” Peter finished the last of his water bottle, his head starting to clear.

Peter really was feeling better after his cry. Sometimes, when things build up and up and up, and they are finally let out, it’s relieving. He’d finally let himself feel what he needed to feel, and now, he actually felt pretty focused. There was work to be done. A lot of work to be done. But he could get it done. It was only going to be another 8-10 hour period of difficult work, but then, he’d finally be over with it. Then, he’d get through the school day, come to the Avengers meeting, go on an amazing patrol with his repaired Karen hard at work, and then, he could rest.

“Do you mind if I start doing a little of my work in the car?” Peter asked.

Happy smiled, wondering how someone as polite as Peter could exist. “Not at all, Peter. Doesn’t bother me.”

\-------------------------------------------------

At around 10:15pm, Happy parked on the road in front of Peter’s apartment. “Now, I want you to let Tony know that you’re alright, and that you’re doing good with your school work, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll let him know, Happy. Don’t worry.” Peter grabbed his backpack. He’d changed out of his suit before they’d crossed into Queens.

“You’re gonna be fine, Pete.” Happy called out the rolled down window as Peter exited the car. “And try and get some sleep, too.”

“Will do, Hap. Thanks for the ride.” Peter waved as Happy drove away.

Getting some sleep was certainly not something Peter had on his to-do list. He hadn’t even gotten halfway into his history study guide on the way back, but it didn’t matter, because he had a plan.

Peter’s plan had actually started in the car. He was going to tackle the history and English study guides first, because they required the most extensive written answers. Some questions even required a couple of sentences. Then, he would tackle the physics study guide. The only two remaining study guides were for gym and engineering. With gym being gym, and Mr. Jacobson being Mr. Jacobson, he knew that these study guides wouldn’t be too difficult or detailed. He could get them done last. He could maybe even do the engineering guide during lunch.

As he got out of the elevator on to his floor, Peter kept track in his head of the checkpoints he’d need to fulfill if he wanted to complete his study guides in time. One was at midnight, then 3:00am, then 5:00am, and then he’d have twenty minutes to work on his gym study guide before getting ready for school and Decathlon practice.

Peter unlocked the door, and greeted May, who was in nearly the same position that he’d seen her in the night before. She was still working on her pint of ice cream.

“Well you’re home early! How was the training?” May always loved to hear Peter talk about everything he’d done with the Avengers.

“It was alright.” Peter answered, realizing once again that he wasn’t really telling the truth. “But, I’m really sorry, May, but, I don’t think I’ve got much time to chat tonight either. I’ve got some study guides I need to finish.”

May fake sighed with disappointment, before flashing her nephew a smile. “It’s alright, sweetie. I understand. Just please try not to be up too late. I worry about you.”

“Nah, it shouldn’t take me too long to finish.” Peter lied again. He quickly kissed May on the cheek. “Good night, love you.”

“Love you too, Peter.” May caught sight of Peter’s face. “Make sure you wash up before bed. You know, maybe I can pick you up some stronger over-the-counter stuff. I know acne’s no fun.”

Peter started to head down the hallway to the bathroom. “You don’t have to do that, May. I think, after this week, I won’t be so stressed out, and it will go away on it’s own. Good night.”

“Okay, but I can always do that if you need it!” May called out. “Good night.”

Peter called out a “good night” once more as he was shutting his door. Peter scrolled through all of the texts Tony had sent him, and didn’t even listen to the voicemail. He sent a quick apology and told Tony that he was okay, but that he would need to work or homework now. He didn’t wait to see what Tony’s response was should he choose to send one.

Peter then took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders back, cracked his neck from side to side, and got to work.

\-------------------------------------------------

Peter once again entered the front doors of Midtown Tech at 6:05am. He’d done it. Well, most of it. He still needed to do his engineering study guide, but that was nothing. He could probably blow that off until his seventh period, start and finish it during class, and hand it to Mr. Jacobson before the bell rang, and he’d be fine. Of course, he wouldn’t do that, should his “Parker luck” run even shorter, and Mr. Jacobson would actually be mean for once and require the students to turn in their study guides as they walked through the double-wide doors. Peter would finish it during lunch that day.

His night had been nothing short of historic.

After Peter finished the history study guide, with eleven minutes to spare from his intended checkpoint at midnight (his answers and sentences had shortened as he got closer and closer to the end), he searched for his English study guide. Very quickly, he realized it was gone.

When Peter accidentally tore the zipper of his backpack off on Wednesday in his haste to work on his English paper, he hadn’t had a chance to replace it or get a new backpack. He’d somewhat just been lugging his school work around, moving slowly and tiredly enough that he assumed that not much would fall out. Big mistake.

Peter could have lost that study guide before Wednesday’s patrol, at Tony’s lab, or at the Compound during training. It didn’t matter though, it only mattered that he had needed to get his study guide back, and complete it before 2:00am.

While Peter had believed that using his and May’s printer to print out the PDF file of the study guide would be his quickest bet, the faded, nearly nonexistent black smudges that appeared on his printed pages staged the problem that they were out of ink.

At that point, Peter was barely fazed. Ever since Wednesday, he had started to come to terms that if something could go wrong, it would. By 12:15am, he’d been back at his apartment, crawling in through one of the windows, a Walmart bag with black and tri-color printer ink in his hand.

With that added dilemma, Peter had been a tad late on his next checkpoint, finishing the English study guide at 2:27am. However, Peter had barely been able to keep his eyes open, and he had known that he needed some sort of sugar fix in order to keep himself coherent. He consumed his candy bars that he’d bought before his training, but it didn’t feel like enough.

Had May been awake at such an unruly hour, she’d have seen her nephew leaning against the kitchen countertop, practically inhaling chocolate peanut butter swirled ice cream with a disconnected, far-away gaze. It would have been frightening.

The ice cream did serve its purpose, and Peter was able to crank out his physics study guide, and complete his gym study guide before he actually had to leave for school. The sight in the mirror had been the worst one yet. He hadn’t showered since Tuesday night, and having everyday life mixed with a Spider-Man patrol and Avengers training made his hair look disgustingly clumped, and his scent absolutely revolting. He really wished that he could wear a hat to school, but of course, that would be way too distracting for his classmates.

Peter had donned an unnecessary amount of deodorant, a spray of Uncle Ben’s oldest, cheapest cologne, and dusted some of May’s powder in his hair. While he had felt girly about holding a women’s make-up brush and applying some weird powder to his hair, May had sworn by the principle that it would make greasy hair look less greasy.

Peter didn’t grab any breakfast on his way out the door.

Now, here Peter was, dropping one of his books off at his locker, just like he’d been doing Monday morning. This time, he didn’t want MJ to catch up with him, in fears that she would notice his haggard appearance and unappealing smell.

When Peter made it up the long staircase, and into the library, his teammate’s reactions made him realize just how damaged he really looked. Ned’s jaw was dropped nearly off of its hinge, Mr. Harrington was shaking his head in dismay, and even Flash’s typical smirk was curved a few millimeters shorter than usual.

Peter said a quiet, shy “good morning” to everyone as he sat down next to his friend.

Ned skipped straight past their handshake. “Dude, you like, shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.

“No, really. I’m good.” Peter reassured as he grabbed some notebook paper and a pencil.

“I mean, I was up till like 1:30 last night and I’m super tired, but you look like you pulled an all-nighter.” Ned watched Peter’s mouth quirk up into a half-smile.

“‘Cuz I did.” Peter could barely believe it himself. He’d even established his plan to complete the study guides, and that plan had no sleep involved, but it still didn’t seem real that he hadn’t even been able to rest his eyes.

Once Ned’s eyes had stopped widening, he asked, his voice even quieter, “But, didn’t you have, like, training last night too?”

Peter winced. That training session was a sore subject, and probably would be until he was able to apologize to Tony. “Yeah, but, I got out a little bit earlier than usual.”

Ned shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You were still working really hard. You should have asked Mr. Stark to give you the night off, or Mr. Captain America.”

“No, Ned, I can’t do that.” Peter’s eyes caught MJ as she was quickly walking to their table. He then averted his gaze, hoping she wouldn’t take much notice of him today. “I took care of everything, and training went great. I don’t even really feel that tired right now.”

“Just wait until you have history, Peter. Then, you’re gonna be out for the count.” Ned smacked his hand on the table. The team was too tired to complain about the unexpected, loud noise.

“Alright, you guys.” MJ sat down next to Mr. Harrington. “Let’s go ahead and get started this morning. Now, I know you all are probably mad at me,” she paused, taking in the exhausted looks from her teammates, especially Peter’s, “but I want you to know that these pre-summer practices are going to help us be a better team next year. We can forget a lot once school lets out, and I’m just trying to cram as much in as possible. Everyone understand?”

Peter nodded his head with the rest of the team, and then covered a yawn with his hands. He really wanted to know how MJ did it all, and still managed to look like she was awake at practice. Probably espresso.

MJ tossed some scratch paper and pencils out onto the table, hoping her teammates would see it as a small kindness. After all, getting loose-leaf notebook paper out of your binder and out of your backpack was such a chore. “Okay, so I’m going to start with a question in the ‘Art’ category.”

\-------------------------------------------------

Ned was right about Peter feeling “out for the count” during history class. He did, however, manage to stay awake the entire period. An interactive timeline of history written up on the whiteboard aided him in doing so.

Gym class involved going down to the school track and walking and jogging every other lap. This irritated everyone in the class because they had already done the Pacer test this week. Why couldn’t they just play knockout basketball, or Hantis? Peter went as slow as he possibly could, still a bit sore from being thrown to the mat the previous night. That wasn’t normal. He always healed from any injuries during the night. Of course, he also usually slept at least a couple of hours at night too.

As Peter was getting changed back into his hoodie, of which he’d already worn twice this week, in the locker rooms, he felt the headache he’d been nursing for the past twenty-four hours start to worsen. He chalked it up as some minor dehydration and malnutrition. He tried to take a few sips of water from the hard-water stained fountains, but the stale water only made his headache pound harder, and his appetite worse.

Peter was glad to meet back up with Ned in math period, and then continue hanging out with him at lunch. Ned, with his pinched, worried face, offered Peter half of his lunch, with which Peter refused. Instead of eating much, they helped each other finish Mr. Jacobson’s stupid easy study guide. Some of the questions included, “What’s your first name?”, What’s my last name?”, and “When does this class period end?”

English was once again politely listening to people’s presentations. Students on Fridays always sounded so much more put together than students who presented earlier in the week, and Peter briefly wondered what kind of grade he would get on his presentation. He didn’t dwell on it too long.

Physics involved getting into small groups and working out different problems. Peter did his best to contribute, but backed out a little bit when half of his group members looked at him as if he were a ghost. At this point, he probably was.

Jason confirmed Peter’s thoughts. “Man, Peter. Do you want me to call the school nurse, or the coroner?” He quickly lowered his voice to a whisper, his eyes on their teacher Mrs. Brown, who was staring blankly at her laptop. “You look like shit.”

“Feel like it too.” Peter rubbed his eyes. “But it’s okay.”

“Yeah? You look like you pulled an all-nighter. I mean, I did too, cuz baseball practice went a bit longer yesterday, and your boy blew off all of his study guides until last night,” Jason chopped himself on the back of the neck, punishing himself, “but you look way worse than me.”

“Just a rougher week than normal ‘s all.” Peter shrugged. “And I had decathlon this morning at 6:15, so that’s probably why, too.”

“Yeah, your brain’s been working longer than mine has today, I guess. But you know what?” Jason reached into his backpack, and then dropped a large, red, yellow, and orange bag in front of Peter. “These bad boys got me through the night. Maybe they’ll help you finish the day.”

The “Flamin’ Hot Cheetos” did Peter in. The bright colors of the packaging, mixed with the hot, spicy, smell that invaded his nose, and just the thought of the taste of them sent Peter rushing out the door. He didn’t even have a chance to tell Mrs. Brown where he was headed. Hopefully, Jason would cover for him.

Peter gagged and dry heaved in the bathroom, spitting up stomach acid. It was most likely not pretty to hear or smell, and he hoped that there wasn’t anybody in the bathroom with him. After he’d finished, he wiped his mouth with one-ply sandpaper, flushed the toilet, and then wet a couple of paper towels. He placed them on the back of his neck, trying to ease the newer, stronger, more erratic pulse of his headache. How great would it be to stay here the rest of sixth period? But he wouldn’t. He could never ditch class, and because he was still able to walk, he would have to go back.

Jason, much to Peter’s dismay, hadn’t been much help in coming up with an excuse for him leaving the class that didn’t involve him being sick. He had however, gotten rid of the offending puffed chips.

Peter explained to his teacher that he’d left his phone in his previous class, and that he needed to get to it as soon as possible so that nobody stole it. Thankfully, he had his phone in his pocket to provide as “proof” that he’d found it. While she was irritated, Mrs. Brown didn’t question him or write him up. She only ordered that everyone get back to work, and nobody else leave the room.

The vomiting had woken Peter up enough to get him through the rest of physics and then, he was off to engineering. Ned was there, telling him to try and rest, but Peter knew he couldn’t, and that he needed to check his personal email. He shifted his body so that none of his classmates could sit, stand, or walk behind him and see what he was reading.

An email from the Captain always came on the days that they were having meetings. Peter knew that it was his role to take a look at the brief, and that he come prepared for what they would be discussing that day.

The just of what they’d be meeting over actually looked pretty interesting. Apparently, more Avengers Compounds were in the works, and the team was helping to finalize global locations. Peter wondered whether or not they would want his input, but whether they did or not, he would be happy to get to listen to the conversation.

Once school finally let out, Peter found himself at Delmar’s. He didn’t order his usual. Instead, he went for sour gummy worms and a bottle of Glacier Freeze Gatorade. He didn’t eat or drink either.

\-------------------------------------------------

Happy parked right outside the doors of Peter’s apartment building, watching the kid drag his feet towards the car.

Once Peter had gotten situated in the back seat, Happy stared at him through the rearview mirror and asked, “Hey Peter, was your aunt home?”

Peter barely shook his head, trying not to aggravate the intense vertigo he’d woken up with after he’d taken a thirty minute nap on his and May’s couch. “Finishing up her afternoon shift. Why?”

Happy turned himself around the best that he could in his seatbelt, glancing pointedly at Peter. “Do you really think that she’d let me take you up to the Compound with you looking like this.”

Peter rolled his eyes, ignoring the pressure it put on his sinuses. “Almost all week, everybody has been telling me that I look absolutely terrible. I know I do, alright. But it’s not gonna stop me from going to school and going to the meeting, okay?”

Happy sighed. “So, you didn’t stay home from school, did you?”

“No. Why would I do that?” Peter pinched his face in confusion.

“Don’t worry about it. It obviously wasn’t something of your concern.” Happy spoke, surprised that Peter didn’t even know why he’d asked the question. “Peter, what will the point of all of this be when Tony takes one look at you and benches you again.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, feeling a sense of betrayal. “Whaddo you know about that?”

“Oh, I talked to the Boss last night after I dropped you off.” Happy’s voice rose, echoing off of the car’s interior. “You didn’t tell me nearly anything about what was going on! You weren’t just off about school. He told me how bad off you were when you came to the lab the other night, what you’ve been doing as Spider-Man this week, and how you disrespected him in front of the entire team, just because he cares about you.”

That hit pretty close to home for Peter. He hadn’t realized how he might have been hurting Tony, not only last night, but the entire week. Thinking back, the man had helped him fix his suit, and had offered to ride along home with him and help him with his studies. And what had Peter done? Yelled at his mentor, sent him a weak apology, and didn’t even bother to see what his response was. Peter’s own hurt came out as anger. “Well, he didn’t tell you everything either! He wouldn’t even let me try and take care of things myself, and he was the one embarrassing me in front of the entire team!”

“I’m sure that those weren’t his intentions, kid.” Happy put the car in drive, knowing that in everything Peter had said to him, he would still go to the meeting. If he didn’t drive him, the kid would probably swing himself upstate, and Happy wasn’t about to let that happen while Peter was in this condition.

“Well, you weren’t there. He seemed very keen on bringing up _everything_ I didn’t want the team hearing or seeing. I’d’ve gotten to finish training last night if it wasn’t for him.” Peter crossed his arms, directing his attention on looking out of the window.

It was Happy’s turn to roll his eyes. “Okay, Peter. And then you’d have been even worse off for school, but, whatever you say. Don’t be grateful you’ve got someone like Tony looking out for you. You didn’t even do what I asked last night, about getting in touch with him. You just left him in the dark all night long, and obviously, this morning. You know, you better wrap this up with the end of your pre-finals week, because you can’t keep up this attitude much longer.”

Like every teenager, hearing the word “attitude” in any adult’s dialogue rubbed Peter further the wrong way. “Can we please stop talking about it. Shouldn’t you be letting me rest?”

Happy smirked, knowing he’d won what weird sort of semblance they’d had of an argument. “Yup, can’t keep it up forever.”

Peter knew that he wouldn’t be able to rest, so instead, he started thinking about what Happy had said. While he had thought he’d be able to turn his brain off after the end of the school week, he was sorely mistaken. What had Happy meant about asking him about staying home from school? What hadn’t he been concerned with? He started to skim through the several text messages and voicemails that Tony had sent him the night before, and early this morning.

At 8:19pm, Tony had written,“Peter are you with Happy?!?!”

At 8:21pm, he had left a voicemail. Tony’s voice was remorseful and apologetic. “Listen, kid. I didn’t mean to upset you like that. I just thought that you looked like you needed the break, and frankly, that you’d be grateful for it. If you really think you can handle it, you can come back in here and finish training. I won’t stop you. But please, answer me, okay?”

Afterwards, more texts. “Peter?” “Can you pick up your phone and answer me.” “If you don’t answer me, I have to talk with Happy, and maybe even your aunt.”

About an hour later, Tony had texted more. “Peter, are you there? Are you and Hap on the road?” “I need to know that you’re feeling better or at least alright.”

Once Peter had sent his quick apology after 10:00pm, Tony had responded immediately, trying to call and leaving a voicemail. This time, there was urgency in his voice. “I know that you’re busy, but I really need to talk to you, Peter. Please. You’ve been worrying me these last couple of days. Reading some text that says you are doing ‘okay’ isn’t the same as hearing you say it out loud. Come on, now. Pick up the phone.”

There were a few more check-in texts scattered throughout all hours of the night.

Another voicemail was left right around the time that Peter would normally head to school on decathlon practice mornings. Tony sounded happy, as if they hadn’t had their falling out. “Hey, Pete. Knowing you, you got all of your school work done right in the nick of time. Maybe you even got to sleep a little bit?” He chuckled, and then, his voice changed to a tone of concern. “Actually, why I’m trying to call is. . . I want you to rest up today. Stay home from school. I’ll be by at around 7:00 to pick up your homework or study guides, or whatever it is, and I’ll get them delivered to whoever they need to be delivered to. Try and grab a bite before Happy picks you up, too. And hey, if you aren’t feeling up for this Avengers meeting, you don’t have to come. There’ll be plenty more this summer that you’ll actually be able to enjoy. Hope to see you at 7:00. Bye.”

At this point, Peter had a couple of annoying tears burning the corners of his eyes. He had kept Tony up and worried all night long. What insignificant text he’d sent Tony didn’t amount to anything that Tony needed to believe that his kid was okay. And now, what Happy had been saying was making much more sense. How upset and turned down had Tony felt when he showed up at the apartment this morning, and his protege wasn’t there? Did Tony tell May about what’s been going on? Peter hadn’t gotten any texts from her throughout the day. Was she disappointed in him? He was pretty disappointed in himself.

Tony had offered him so much that he was completely blinded by worry and discontent to acknowledge and appreciate. Letting him come back in to practice and taking his homework to school so he could have a day off was so considerate. Peter hadn’t even checked the voicemail, or responded with a “Sure, thanks so much, Mr. Stark.” or “I really appreciate it Mr. Stark, but I can handle one more school day.” He had left his mentor to fret. Peter knew about Tony’s run-ins with anxiety, and realizing that he was aiding in Tony’s fears made him feel even more sick to his stomach than the thought of Jason’s Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.

Peter’s stomach dropped. What would happen at the meeting today? Would Tony kick him off of the team for being ill-mannered in responding and connecting with him? Would Tony yell at him? Would Tony even show up, or want to see him?

At this point, Peter wished he had decided to disregard the meeting, but he couldn’t ask Happy to take him back to the apartment. Avoiding Tony would probably make things worse anyways.

But what should he do when he sees Tony? If he sees Tony? What should he say?

\-------------------------------------------------

The entire car trip, Peter never spoke a word to Happy, and Happy didn’t speak a word to him.

All Peter thought about was the lengthy apology he would give to Tony, and then another to the team. He would explain all that had happened this week, everything that had gone wrong, and how ashamed he was that he had lashed out, and been such a bad and irresponsible Avenger.

Throughout plotting his new, after-school, “please forgive me” presentation, Peter got a little choked up. But, he didn’t let the tears escape his eyes, instead, letting the water get trapped in his nose with all of the other congestion and sinus trouble.

Once Peter was out of the car, Happy’s cold stare boring into his back, his mental and emotional exhaustion decided to coincide with his physical exhaustion. The perfectly polished, seamless staircase to the front doors of the Compound had never felt steeper, or longer.

Every step that Peter took brought him closer and closer to panic. He could feel himself sweating, and his hands were shaking, and clammy. His spidey-sense was going haywire.

Peter opened the front doors, grey, black, and white spots starting to dance at the corners of his vision. On shaking legs, he slowly made his way to the elevator. He was four floors away from one of his worst nightmares: a letdown team of superheroes.

Upon reaching the silver elevator doors, Peter read the white sign with black lettering.

“OUT OF ORDER. PLEASE USE EAST STAIRWELL. THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION.”

Peter was already huffing and puffing before he even reached the stairwell. The Avengers Compound was filled with geniuses. Sure, there was the core team of Avengers, but also, hundreds of agents. Agents with degrees. Agents with graduate degrees. Agents with doctorates. Agents with M.D.’s. Agents who knew the basic electricity of an elevator. Why, of all days, was a busted elevator not fixed?

Peter glanced quickly at his phone, darting his head dizzyingly. It was 6:02pm. He was late.

Reaching the top of the stairwell, Peter only had to waltz down a few more hallways before he would reach their main conference room. The spots that had been dancing on the edge of his vision were now having a full-fledged rave that was encompassing his sight.

Right outside the double doors, Peter thought he realized that he wasn’t really breathing. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, the pounding of his heart, and the quiet murmurs right behind the doors, but he couldn’t hear anymore labored breaths.

Peter pushed his way through the doors.

The entire room of Avengers went completely silent, except for a barely-there outcry.

Peter made it a few steps forward before briefly glancing at everyone in the room. He thought he saw Tony, but then, he saw nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Man down! Man down!"
> 
> Let the beat drop!
> 
> There's more coming next week! I hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> -WithACherryOnTop


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo-hoo! This is it!
> 
> Okay, so with this chapter, the first two or three paragraphs of this chapter are kind of like that "building up" point I've been talking about in the past couple of chapters. So like, 0:40 of Labrinth's "Forever", but then, at the climactic moment of the story, when Tony sees Peter collapse, we hit 0:48.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

Tony sat on the black leather seat to the side of their long conference table. He was halfway tuned in to Steve’s open remarks about proposed Avengers Compounds global locations, but his main focus was on the text message he’d just received from Happy.

“Kid’s on his way up. You should meet him before he makes it to the meeting room, he isn’t right today.”

Right before their meeting had commenced, Tony had felt a little hopeful that Peter had decided to stay home. After all, Peter was usually present at Avenger meetings fifteen minutes early at the latest. However, it now appeared that his kid was just late because he was not “right” at the moment, which directly translated that Peter was sicker than ever. Tony really wished that Peter would have taken the day off like he’d asked him to.

 _Did he even see my texts or voicemails? Does he just not care? Is he mad at me?_ Tony thought as he stood up. He was just getting ready to tell Steve that he needed to step-out for a moment to take care of something important when the door opened.

Tony, Steve, Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Sam, and Bucky’s attention all closed in on the figure that had opened the door.

Like every other Avenger present, Tony could barely believe the sight of Peter. The poor kid looked sweaty, uncoordinated, exhausted, on the brink of tears, both flush and pale, and maybe even a little blue? “Oh my God.”

Everything happened in a matter of seconds.

Peter took a few steps forward, his eyes sweeping once across the room before they then rolled into the back of his head. His legs crumpled, and he teetered forwards and to the side.

Tony lunged around the table, trusting that someone else would catch Peter before he hit the ground, but feeling as if he needed to be there first all the same.

Sam, who had been closest to the door, jumped out of his chair, and dropped to his knees, his arms outstretched towards the collapsing teen. While he couldn’t keep Peter completely off of the ground, he was able to absorb most of the impact from Peter’s upper body and head, removing the threat of a popped-out shoulder or a concussion. “Whoa! I’ve got you, Peter. Easy.”

“Bruce!” Tony and Steve both called out as they gathered at Peter’s side.

Bruce was already on his way, settling his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

Clint, who was on the other side of the table, had stood up, his face pinched with concern as he tried to get a peek at Peter. Natasha and Bucky stayed sitting, their worry portrayed only by the hitch of her breath, and the wrinkle of his brow.

Tony had his face directly over Peter’s, calling his name in hopes that he hadn’t completely passed out. “Come on, Parker! Can you hear me?! Peter, wake up!” He didn’t want to shake the kid, or even worse, slap him, but he’d never ever seen Peter collapse before, and he’d certainly never seen Peter sleep through a command from Iron Man.

Seeing Tony’s panic, Bruce knew he needed to take charge of their situation. “Alright. Let’s just get him flat, and then all of you need to back up.”

Sam gently pulled himself out from underneath Peter’s body, lying Peter down. While he tried to get himself out of Bruce’s way, he did keep his hands at the base of Peter’s head, stabilizing his skull and neck.

While Steve had let Tony crouch down on his knees next to Peter, he did gently push him back in order to give Bruce some space.

Bucky, who had been sitting beside Sam, moved both of their chairs back and out of the way, and he, Clint, and Natasha dragged the table as far from the cluster of commotion as possible.

Bruce began his examination by placing two fingers at the carotid artery in Peter’s neck, noting the weak but steady pulse. He then placed the back of his hand above Peter’s mouth, and felt a hot breath ghost over his skin. “He’s breathing, guys.”

Everyone relaxed slightly. Everyone except for Tony. “But what’s wrong with him, Bruce?!”

“He’s passed out, obviously, but I can’t confirm as to why just yet.” Bruce placed his palm on top of Peter’s forehead. “I can tell you right now, he’s got a bit of a fever.”

“So, he’s sick?” Tony asked. “I’m pretty sure Peter’s told me that he can’t get sick, Bruce.”

“Tony, I didn’t say that he was sick.” Bruce pulled out a penlight from his shirt pocket, something he always had on hand. “Could someone please get my medical bag from the Med-Bay?”

Clint was already out the door as Tony protested. “Shouldn’t we just get Peter to the Med-Bay now? Why keep him from the real help?”

“Because I don’t want to move him much right now, Tony.” Bruce motioned for Steve to grab and raise Peter’s legs. “I have a guess that he’s just had a decent drop in blood pressure, triggering this syncope. Right now, we just need to get the blood rushing back to his head. He should be awake again any minute.”

“But what triggered the drop in blood pressure?” Tony was looking Peter up and down. Was there a hidden wound somewhere? Had Peter been patrolling at all today? Had he lost blood? While no injuries were apparent, Peter did look extremely pale, sweaty, and feverish.

“That’s what we’re going to find out soon.” Bruce lifted one of Peter’s eyelids, noting the dilation in the pupil, and upon moving to the other eye, removed the penlight after Peter jerked his head slightly away from the offending light.

“Is he awake again?” Tony asked.

Bruce ignored Tony, leaning over Peter’s face. “Hey, Peter? Are you back with us?”

There was no verbal response from Peter, but his left hand shifted, the one closest to Tony.

Tony took Peter’s hand into his own, squeezing it gently. “Peter? Wake up, alright?”

Nothing.

Clint entered the room, handing Bruce’s medical bag to him before exiting. He joined Natasha and Bucky in the hallway, who had left upon hearing that Peter was breathing and believing that the teen wouldn’t want everyone to witness his ill health.

Bruce placed some powder-blue nitrile gloves on his hands, and then opened Peter’s mouth. He carefully moved his fingers around Peter’s gums, pushing his cracked lips out of the way as he pushed his fingers further back. He then opened Peter’s mouth a bit wider to look at his dry tongue.

Then, Peter finally started to wake up. He clenched his jaw, much too slow and uncoordinated to actually bite down on Bruce’s fingers, but enough so to make it clear that he didn’t want anything in his mouth. Bruce complied.

“Peter, can you open your eyes, kid?” Tony tended to Peter.

Bruce continued his work, pinching the back of Peter’s hand, and pulling the skin slightly upwards. The slow rate in which the skin lowered back down confirmed some of his suspicions. “Well, this lack of skin turgor and little saliva indicates that Peter is very dehydrated. Keep his legs up, Steve.”

Steve nodded.

Bruce was pulling out his sphygmomanometer as Tony finally got Peter to open his eyes. “Finally, kiddo, you had me worried!”

Peter’s eyes were rolling around, surveying the room, and his mouth was working, but no words were coming out.

Tony searched Peter’s face, looking for any sort of recognition or acknowledgment of his presence. “Can you hear me, buddy?”

Peter’s eyes moved to the source of the sound, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes began to close again.

At this, both Bruce and Tony objected, albeit Bruce, a bit more calmly. “Peter, now that you’re awake, I need you to try and stay awake. If you can understand me, squeeze Tony’s hand.”

After a few seconds, Tony shook his head, letting Bruce know he hadn’t gotten a response.

Bruce closed his hand into a fist, and then began rubbing his knuckles firmly along Peter’s sternum.

The reaction took only a matter of seconds. Peter gasped in a breath and pulled his hand from Tony’s grasp to push Bruce’s hand away. He had a look of discomfort on his face.

Despite this, Bruce smiled, rubbing Peter’s chest with a comforting palm. “Alright, great. Sorry about that, Peter, but you weren’t responding in the way that I would have liked to see.”

“Why ‘m I on the flo’r?” Peter slurred, squinting his eyes at the bright lights shining right above him.

Sam noticed, and placed one of his hands over Peter’s eyes. He didn’t receive any reprimand from Bruce, and it seemed to help relax Peter.

“Do you have any idea of what might’ve happened?” Bruce asked.

While under normal circumstances, Peter would have looked quizzical or alarmed, he remained deadpan. “‘id I pass out?”

“Sure did, Pete.” Tony had returned his grip on Peter’s hand.

Peter tensed, having now been coherent enough to realize that Tony was in the room with him. “Misser Stark? Y’re here?”

Bruce interjected Tony’s response. “Peter, right now, I only want you to listen to me. Sam, Tony, Steve, and myself are all here with you right now. You passed out, and I’m going to look you over before we move you down to the Med-Bay to get you started on some fluids and whatever else it is you will need. Most likely, what caused your current condition is a drop in blood pressure, and therefore, a lack of oxygen to your brain. With that being said, Steve’s the one keeping the blood flowing to your head, and it’s your job to take deeper breaths. Can you do that?”

Peter slowly nodded his head, grateful that he didn’t have to look at Tony’s disappointed face, or anyone’s face for that matter.

“Now, I’m going to take your blood pressure.” Bruce wrapped the cuff around Peter’s left bicep. “Tony, I need you to let go of his hand so he can relax his arm, and I can get a proper reading.”

Tony obliged, stepping back a little. He was a bit out of his realm, as he wasn’t used to Peter being put-off by his comforts.

“It’s gonna get a little bit tight around your arm, Peter.” Bruce started to squeeze the air bulb. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

Peter didn’t even have to think very hard. “‘M tired.”

Bruce nodded his head, using the stethoscope of his sphygmomanometer to listen to the blood flowing through Peter’s brachial artery. “That is to be expected in someone who has just passed out.” There were a few seconds of silence as Bruce continued to listen before he reached his verdict. “You’re at about 80 over 60, which is low, hypotension territory. It’s not extremely dangerous or anything, but I want to get those numbers back-”

“Bruce! Why is he turning blue?!” Tony had Peter’s right arm in his hand and was looking at Peter’s fingertips. They had a distinct blue hue to them. _Was Peter not breathing anymore? Was he going to pass out again? How long before his lips turn blue?_ “That’s not normal.”

Peter’s breath hitched as he pulled that hand from Tony’s hold.

“It’s alright, Tony. Nothing to get everybody worked up over.” Bruce let Tony see his eyes dart pointedly at Peter. “It’s just some peripheral cyanosis that means not a whole lot of oxygen is getting to Peter’s extremities, which is to be expected.” He finished slowly. “Right now, Peter’s body is doing everything I want it to be doing. Soon enough, he’ll be a healthy color all around.”

“Okay.” Tony breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

There was a few minutes of awkward silence, at least for everyone other than Bruce, as Peter breathed and effectively pulled himself out of his groggy, foggy state. Bruce was the one to break the silence. “Peter, I know it might make you a bit uncomfortable, but I think it’d be best for you to not be getting up, or walking to the Med-Bay.”

Peter winced, realizing he would either have to be carried or carted away in a wheelchair or on a stretcher. He wished they’d have done all of the heavy lifting while he had been passed out. There is hardly anything as embarrassing as having to be carried around.

It was usually in moments like these that Tony would say something like, “Doctor’s orders, kiddo,” or, “If you try to walk another step, I’m gonna sweep you off your feet and carry you bridal style,” in order to give Peter some sort of comedic relief. However, quips were one of the last things on Tony’s mind. Instead, he declared, “I can carry him, Bruce.”

“Tony, we both know you can’t carry him all that way without your suit.” Bruce pointed out. “Just let Steve carry him.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’ve got the suit on me at all times. I just need to-”

“Iss okay, Mister Stark. Cap can carry me.” Peter didn’t want to inconvenience Tony by making him put on his suit. He also didn’t want to accidentally hurt Tony, should his mentor be stubborn enough to try and carry him without his suit on.

Tony nodded at Steve, giving the man permission to do what only Tony had ever been allowed to do.

At one point, Tony had to look away. Bruce and Sam were guiding Peter into Steve’s arms. Peter was keeping his light-sensitive eyes shut, and had both of his hands tugging at the collar of Steve’s shirt, searching for purchase. The innocent act was something that Tony had always felt was reserved for him, or May. While he cursed himself for it, he felt a sting of jealousy.

Once Peter was in Steve’s arms, head tucked up near his shoulder, Bruce got them headed towards the Med-Bay. Sam reconvened with Nat, Clint, and Bucky.

Tony walked directly behind Steve. “Are you starting to feel any less tired, Pete?”

Peter made sure to keep his face tucked away in Steve’s chest. “Not really. Head hurts bad.”

Tony couldn’t hear the muffled response. “What’d you say, Pete?”

Steve answered, directing his response to Bruce as well. “He said he’s still pretty tired and that his head is hurting.”

Peter flinched at the booming sound of Steve’s voice, reverberating through the man’s chest right where his ear was resting.

Tony could see the start of a sensory overload beginning. How he wished he could be the one with the kid in his arms. He’d be much quieter than the Captain, and he’d make sure to have a hand rubbing gently at Peter’s chest, something that always eased his pain and kept him calm.

Bruce slowed his pace so that he was alongside Peter, giving Tony no room to take his _rightful_ place at Peter’s side. “Probably just a side effect of the syncope, lack of blood flow, dehydration, exhaustion. . .” Bruce paused, realizing that the list could go on much further. “We’ll get you settled in here pretty quick.”

“M’kay.” Peter affirmed. However, he didn’t feel that any amount of painkillers, rest, or sensory deprivation was going to fix the sad way he was feeling at the moment.

\-------------------------------------------------

Once at the Med-Bay, plopped down onto a white hospital bed with rough sheets, temporarily underneath a bright, white light, Peter’s discomfort and distress only seemed to grow. He kept his own hand over his eyes.

Steve had left the room to leave Bruce to his work, and to try and get the team reassembled to discuss their topic and return to normalcy.

Tony was off in the corner, getting signals of being unwanted. All of these signals were misinterpreted, and misguided, of course, but he felt that Peter wanted some space at the moment.

Bruce was getting some fluids set up for Peter. An uncomfortable but typical pin-prick had Peter connected with an IV. “I’ll start you off with a bit of saline to get the dehydration under control. Now, sometimes dehydration can also equate to low potassium levels. Have you been experiencing any abdominal cramps?”

Peter shook his head.

Bruce nodded. “That’s good. That’s good.” He grabbed a clipboard and pen, already jotting down Peter’s blood pressure and oxygen levels. “I’m gonna ask you some more questions, to help us figure out what may have been the cause of this, and then, you can get some rest, okay?”

Peter licked his dry lips. “‘Kay.”

“Alright, so, it isn’t news to us that you’ve been working especially hard this week in your schooling and as Spider-Man.” Bruce connected his eyes with Tony’s as he spoke. “But I want to know how extensive that was. So, in the last week, how much water do you think you drank?”

Peter thought hard, not only because he couldn’t really remember, but because he knew how his answer would affect both of the men in the room, especially Tony. “Probably about five or six bottles?”

Bruce wrote down Peter’s response.

Tony knew that he himself had provided at least four of those “five or six” water bottles, and that had only been one night, not the entire week. Peter was not drinking enough at all. “Plastic water bottles, about sixteen ounces each? You don’t have your own that you take with you to school?”

Peter spoke, “No. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Peter.” Bruce brought Peter back to his questions. “How much do you think you’ve eaten in the past week? F.R.I.D.A.Y. just reported to me that you’ve dropped about six pounds.”

“About one or two meals a day.” The teen winced, not daring, nor having the energy, to tell the men that most of those meals were empty calories of sugar and/or sodium.

Tony sighed, exasperated, his hands coming up to rest at the back of his head. Had that protein bar he’d offered Peter been what the kid considered a meal?

Peter spoke, softer, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Peter.” Bruce wrote down the response. “How much patrolling do you think you did this week?”

“Maybe six or eight hours a day, if it wasn’t a lab day, or if I had training.” Peter answered honestly.

Tony remained silent, actually having known all about Peter’s tough time as Spider-Man this week.

Peter still somehow thought that he could feel judgment from Tony, even though it wasn’t there. He spoke, his voice cracking, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Peter.” Bruce once again wrote down Peter’s response, and then changed the pattern of his last question slightly. “And how much did you sleep last night, Peter?”

Peter brought up his other hand to aid him in hiding his face and entrapping a cry so it couldn’t escape his mouth. He could tell that neither of the heroes had moved towards him to comfort him, or away from him to give him some dignity. They were just watching him have a breakdown. He gasped in, and then forced himself to quiet. “I didn’t.”

Peter held his breath as his enhanced hearing picked up Tony’s heart rate, beating rapidly in his chest. He knew that he could have had the entire day to sleep, had he stopped and listened to Tony. Instead, he was probably on his way to giving Tony an anxiety attack, or worse, a heart attack. His breath exploded out of him as he started to sob, nearly hysterically. Muffled behind his hands, he cried, “Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright, Pet-”

“You’re alright, Peter.” Tony had crossed the room, coming to Peter’s side. He couldn’t stand his kid’s distraught anymore. He pulled Peter upwards, letting the boy hug him close and hide his shame in his mentor’s shirt. Tony started to card his hands through the boy’s greasy, wavy hair. “I’m not mad at you, buddy.”

Peter continued to cry. He paused, “Yes you are,” then continued sobbing.

“No, Peter. I’m not.” Tony realized how cross he may have come off as to Peter, but he most certainly was not mad. “I’m just so worried about you.”

Peter was breathing hard. “But I’m the one who makes you worry.”

“No more than any teen who makes their parents worry.” Tony smiled sadly.

Apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say, because it sent Peter off into a new wave of fits. “Oh God, I know I worry May, too! She doesn’t deserve it! She doesn’t-”

Tony started to rock Peter slightly from side to side. “Peter, listen to me. May is-”

“Tony.” Bruce cut Tony off. He had a loaded syringe in his hand.

While Bruce had been trying to keep Peter and Tony’s moment private to them, he couldn’t ignore the unhealthy signs Peter was exhibiting, or the warnings that F.R.I.D.A.Y. was alerting him to, regarding Peter’s vitals. Peter’s breathing was borderline hyperventilating, and that certainly wasn’t going to help him get good blood and oxygen flowing to his head. And, with everything the teen had said, Bruce knew that their top priority should be getting Peter more fluids, some nutrients, and a lot of sleep. While he would have preferred to get those things to Peter in that order, the boy was in such a disarray, that everything could be done much more efficiently, and less stressfully, if he were already asleep.

Tony paused, eying the needle. It took only a moment for him to congregate everything that Bruce had been thinking about Peter’s current state. He quit rocking Peter, instead, gripping him tightly in a hug. “Just keep holding on to me, kiddo.”

Bruce moved to the head of the table and squeezed the air bubbles out of the syringe of Spider-Man-grade sedative. “It should work quick.” He positioned the shot above Peter’s bicep.

Tony winced himself. “Gonna feel a little poke.” He didn’t watch the needle get jabbed into the muscle of Peter’s arm. He did, however, feel the boy’s body flinch against his own, and hear his startled whine of confusion and pain. “Everything’s going to be okay, Pete.”

“Misser Stark?” Peter panicked as he felt his grip on Tony loosening without his consent. “‘M I passin’ out again?”

“Nonononono.” Tony returned his hand to Peter’s hair, at the back of the boy’s head. “You’re okay. You’re just going to sleep for a while.”

“No.” Peter’s arms dropped aimlessly at his sides.

“Shh, you know it’s for the best, kiddo.” Tony felt a few more warm tears bleed through his thin shirt.

Peter could feel the darkness creeping up on him again, like it had only moments earlier in the Avengers Compound bullpen. “‘ony.”

“Just go to sleep, bud.” Tony gently scratched his nails at the nape of Peter’s neck.

Peter collapsed bonelessly in Tony’s arms, all evidence of the tears, crying, and sobs hidden except for a stained shirt and the boy’s even, congested breaths.

\-------------------------------------------------

Tony wiped a hand over his face, a bit flustered. “Wow. That went way worse than I expected.”

“How do you mean? His fainting spell, or his breakdown?” Bruce started to pull Peter carefully from Tony’s arms. “Could you help me get him down, please.”

Tony assisted Bruce in getting Peter flat on the hospital bed. “Just. . . all of that. I had planned to talk with him earlier today, but I just didn’t get the chance.” He didn’t tell Bruce of the instructions he’d offered Peter, which had gone unknowingly unheard. “I had wanted to learn more about what’s been going on this past week, since he’s been so out of sorts. He doesn’t always tell me everything that he should.”

Bruce was starting to remove Peter’s heavier clothes, a thin hospital shirt folded next to him on Peter’s bed. “Yeah, I noticed he seemed to be really disconnected from you. Almost uncomfortable around you.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Tony averted his eyes around the room, especially taking note of the monitors relaying Peter’s vitals. It’s not that Bruce was going to strip the kid bare, and Tony had seen Peter, who would openly change into and out of his suit in front of him, before, but he felt that he should leave the clothes changing to Bruce. “It seemed like he didn’t even want me with him when we were in the conference room. Like I was making him nervous, or scared or something.”

Bruce pulled the shirt over Peter’s head, being careful not to loll the boy’s head too much. “I can assure you, Tony. You don’t scare him, alright, or, at least, not in the way that you think. As soon as we get Peter back up and running, you and him will really be able to talk, yeah?”

Tony toyed with the idea. “Only if the kid wants-"

“No, Tony. I _need_ you to talk with him. Because if you won’t, I will have to. Because this,” Bruce gestured to Peter’s body as he finished covering him with a thicker, warm sheet, “isn’t good. Now, I know, I told you he was going to be fine, and he is, but this can’t be a regular occurrence. His enhanced metabolism and body can not keep up with it, as we have seen today.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about it happening again. I think it was just the finals week that set him off.” Tony stated.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want this happening every finals week, or midterm week, or whatever week. No matter what’s going on in his life, he needs to be getting proper nourishment and rest. So you _will_ have a talk with him, and find out what’s going on. Maybe there’s something going on at home. Or something at school. Something that we don’t know about.”

Tony frowned at the implications.

However, Bruce was only finally letting show how much Peter’s condition concerned him. He pulled up a plastic chair to Peter’s bedside. “If you want to stay with him, I’m going to call Dr. Cho, let her know about Peter, and get in contact with one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s nutritionists. I want him started on a plan this week to get his weight back up, and I want him to stay on it so that something like this doesn’t happen again.”

Tony sat down in the chair. “You’re the doctor, Bruce. I”ll see if there’s anything I can get out of him.”

Bruce was heading out the door. “I’ll be back in about an hour to switch out the I.V. drip. Be sure to tell his aunt about where he is and how he’s doing, too.”

Tony nodded his head. “Will do.”

Once it was just Tony and Peter in the room, Tony had F.R.I.D.A.Y dim the lights down to 10%, a setting that Peter would very much appreciate when he woke up. The sedative he had been given, however, wouldn’t wear off for another 6-8 hours.

“Alright, kiddo.” Tony pulled out his phone. “Now I’ve gotta call your aunt. I won’t give her all the details, but she’s got to know a bit of the truth. And then, when you wake up, we’re going to have a nice, long, _long_ chat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on true events.
> 
> Just kidding! But let me tell y'all, there were some DAYS back in the junior and senior years. Never did I actually have to get tranquilized, but I mean. . . 
> 
> I hope that you guys enjoyed it and are looking forward to the resolution next week!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it everyone!
> 
> With this chapter, I imagine 2:48 of Labrinth's "Forever", all the way to the end of the song, especially 3:07. This portion of the song just has some light, resolution feels to it, which is how I wanted this story to end. 
> 
> Maybe Peter can finally get some help.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

Peter came back to awareness rather quickly. Normally, he would find himself waking up in the Med-Bay or a hospital slowly, and groggily, but the sounds of the monitors surrounding him, the clinical smell of his Med-Bay room, and the warm feeling of a heavy blanket flooded his consciousness all at once.

However, none of it frightened him, or startled him awake.

Peter was very quick to realize that for the first time all week, he felt pretty dang amazing! His mouth didn’t feel cottony, his head wasn’t pounding, and what was best, he felt as if he had slept for days! The feeling brought a great bit of relief to him, until he finally opened his eyes.

Aunt May was right at his bedside, and Peter just now realized that his hand was held tightly in the both of hers. Even though she offered him a smile, he could only read the sadness in her eyes. He interlocked his fingers with one of her hands, smiling himself despite the regret he felt for making her have to worry after Tony must have called her and informed her of his nose-dive. “Hey, May.”

“Hi, sweetie.” She gently patted the back of his hand. “Good to see you awake.”

Peter cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I bet it is. How long have I been out?”

“Well, Bruce said that the sedative had you out for about eight hours, but then, you just stayed right on sleeping after the medicine had worn off. You’ve been asleep about twelve hours.” May answered.

“Oh my gosh!” Peter spotted the clock on the wall. It read 6:37am. “That’s way more sleep than I’m used to.”

“Yeah.” May settled Peter’s hand back at his side and then crossed her leg over her thigh and her hands across her chest. She had a stern look. “I’ve been told that that’s about the amount of sleep that you’ve had all week.”

Peter grumbled. “Probably not even that much, honestly.”

“You’re not helping your case, Peter.” May sighed. “Sweetie, I don’t know if I’m the one who needs to be more forward about asking you if you’re alright, or if-”

“No, May. Please, just don’t even say that.” The last thing that Peter wanted to hear was May blaming herself. “You are always looking out for me, and all it is, is that I don’t tell you what I know will upset you.”

“You’re my teenage nephew, Peter. It’s your job to upset me.” May countered. “But, I’ll tell you what really upsets me: getting a call from Tony Stark, right near the end of my shift, who’s telling me that you’re in the Med-Bay. And not because of Spider-Manning, or Avengering, but because you worked yourself too hard, and your body just decided to take a quick check-out.”

“I know, May. I’m so so sorry for worrying you.” Had this conversation occurred twelve hours earlier, Peter would have probably been bawling his eyes out. However, now, with a rested mind and rejuvenated control on his thoughts and emotions, he could actually have a conversation. “I just knew that this week, there was nothing I, or you, could have done.”

“That’s where you’re wrong though, you know.” May’s voice hardened slightly. “Peter, had you told me you were barely eating, drinking, and sleeping, and that you had mountains of homework, I can assure you that I would have placed some serious limitations on your after school whereabouts.”

“What, not let me go out as Spider-Man?” Peter started to sit up to the best of his ability.

The trained nurse and loving aunt that she was, May assisted Peter in pulling him up into a sitting position, readjusting his pillow. All the while, she spoke, “If you were functioning off of two hours of sleep and only one or two scoops of peanut butter, then yes!”

“Come on, May!” Peter whined. “I have dealt with much worse as Spider-Man, and been in much worse condition.”

“Yeah, in an hour-long Avengers mission. Not an entire _week._ ” May hissed.

“It really wasn’t that bad.” Peter was trying to bury the memories of his behavior and thoughts from his pre-finals week. “And I’m better now, so that’s all that matters.”

“Oh no it’s not, Peter Benjamin Parker.” May pulled a packet from her purse. “Do you know what this is?”

Peter squinted in confusion. “No.”

“It’s a _nutrition plan._ ” May shook the stack of papers for emphasis.

“From who?! I don’t need that.” Peter shook his head.

“You know who says you do?” May didn’t give Peter a chance to respond. “Dr. Banner, Dr. Cho, Tony, Steve, Nat, Clint, Rhodey-”

“Why? This really shouldn’t be a big deal! Every Avenger overexerts themselves once in a while!” Peter really didn’t understand why this was turning into such a big event.

“Not a single one of those Avengers is a kid in high school!” May pointed her finger at the door. “Not a single one of those Avengers is a _growing teenager_ with an enhanced metabolism!” She lowered the nutrition plan into her lap, staring at all of the different macronutrients, vitamins, minerals, and large calorie count. “Peter do you know how this makes me feel?”

“May,” Peter started, “It shouldn’t make you feel-”

“It makes me feel like I’m a bad parent.” May’s voice was shaking, and she could no longer look at Peter. “Like I _can’t_ take care of you.”

“Please don’t let it make you feel that way, May.” Peter wished that he could get out of bed and give his aunt a proper hug. “Most of that carbs and protein stuff is just bologna anyways! We probably don’t even need to follow-”

“No, Peter!” May exclaimed. “We’re going to follow it down to the fine print so that you can start-”

“Okay, okay!” Peter took May’s hands into his own. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do, May. If me following this plan makes you feel at ease, then I’ll do it.”

May didn’t reply.

“But I want you to know,” Peter paused, “whether you were feeding me a Vegas-style all-you-can-eat buffet, or a can of chicken-and-stars, I’d still think you were the best parent a kid could ask for.”

May didn’t look too convinced, but a small smile ghosted her lips. “Well, I don’t know how you could think that.”

“Because it’s true, May.” Peter gently tugged on May’s hands, pulling her into a hug. “I larb you.”

“Oh, you can’t say stuff like that, Peter.” May returned the hug, tightly. “I larb you too.”

The two stayed together for a few moments, just enjoying each other’s comfort. Then, May broke away, grabbing the packet. “Okay, so, I want you to go over this with me.”

\-------------------------------------------------

Tony let Peter and May finish discussing the nutrition plan of which he’d only glossed over enough to figure out how much money he would be donating to the small family for groceries each week. Then, he decided it was the proper time to make his appearance, after May had had her go at the kid.

“Hey, Peter. It’s good to see you awake.” Tony smiled at May and greeted her, “Ms. Parker.”

“Hi, Tony.” May rose to hug the billionaire. “Thank you so much for taking care of him and letting him stay here.” She held out the nutrition packet. “And thank you for all of this-”

“Pleasure’s all mine, May. Not a problem at all.” Tony then feigned a cross, disappointed voice as he directed his attention towards Peter. “Sure wish we didn’t have to use all of this stuff.”

Peter stared down at his bedsheets, keeping silent. He was just now remembering exactly how he’d “left” Tony last, literally falling unconscious in his arms after he had to be sedated. His cheeks felt heated. It was just like he was back in his algebra class.

“Could I have five minutes with him?” Tony asked May.

“Sure.” May smiled as she started to make her exit. “Just don’t ask him to go with you to Berlin and take on Captain America like the last time you needed ‘five minutes with him’. I’ll be back afterwards, Peter.”

“Bye, May.” Peter mumbled as his aunt shut the door on her way out.

Tony let out an exaggerated sigh as he sat down in the plastic chair. He then proceeded to wait for Peter to break the silence, as he didn’t feel that he could break it himself.

After a minute or two, Peter finally spoke. “I’m sorry about earlier, Mr. Stark.”

“What are you sorry for?” Tony was genuinely curious.

“You, know, for. . . crying, and stuff.” Peter’s cheeks grew a shade darker.

“Well, I mean, you did have quite a bit to cry about.” Tony chuckled lightly. “But that’s not really anything that you need to apologize for.”

Peter took a moment to ponder what Tony had said.

“If anything, I’m the one who should be sorry.” Tony admitted honestly. “If I’d have known-”

Peter casually rolled his eyes. “Jeez, you’re as bad as May, Mr. Stark. Everyone knows who’s to blame here, alright. It’s me.”

“I don’t really think this is the ‘blame-game’, kiddo.” Tony offered.

“I mean, maybe not about my busy week, but I’m the one to blame when it comes to how I’ve treated you these past couple of days.” Peter clenched his jaw, frustrated with himself, then continued. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about what was going on. I’m really sorry that I didn’t keep you posted last night, er, on the training night. And I’m really sorry that I didn’t listen to your voicemails, and take your advice about school.”

“But be honest with me, kid.” Tony still couldn’t catch any eye contact with Peter. “If we’d have kept better in touch, would you have even listened to me?”

Peter shook his head.

“And why is that, Pete?” Tony knew that Peter’s answer was the goal he’d established with himself about getting his kid to open up more about the causes of this whole episode.

“Because, school is a big responsibility. I can’t just skip class. I’ve gotta keep my grades up. Participation points are really a thing now, Mr. Stark. I don’t like _missing_ school.” Peter answered.

“Is it as big a responsibility to you as Spider-Man?” Tony continued interrogating.

“Yeah, of course it is.” Peter nodded emphatically. “They’re both really important to me.”

“Is eating enough calories a big responsibility to you?” Tony was finally able to meet Peter’s eyes as the kid shot his head up to look at him.

Peter stayed silent.

“What about drinking water? What about getting enough sleep?” Tony listed.

Peter slowly shook his head, seeing where Tony was going with this talk. He clenched his jaw again, only this time, it was in frustration and annoyance towards Tony.

Tony crossed his arms. “Clearly, you don’t really know how to prioritize, do you?”

“I do fine.” Peter spat coldly. He’d had conversations like this particular one before. He’d had a couple with May, one with his school counselor, who just assumed he had a demanding part-time job, and even one with Ned. The conversations never ever made him feel better. They only stressed him out more on the sheer mass of things he needed to do and achieve.

“Peter, you really don’t do fine.”

“It was one week.”

“Bruce said that this could be many weeks if we’re not careful.”

“Well, Bruce is wrong.”

“Dr. Helen Cho agrees with him.”

“Well, she’s wrong too.”

Tony quickly saw that they were getting nowhere fast. “Well then maybe, I’ll agree with May, and start putting limitations on some of your ‘after school whereabouts’.”

“You were spying on us.” While quiet, Peter’s tone was scathing.

Tony ignored Peter’s comment. “It wouldn’t even be hard. I’d get Happy to drive you home from school. I could put vibranium locks on the windows and door in your room.” He looked as if he were calculating it all in his head. “Yup, wouldn’t be hard.”

“You wouldn’t do that.” Peter tried to call Tony’s bluff, but the hesitance in his voice spoke volumes. “You wouldn’t make me quit Spider-Man.”

Peter was right, Tony would never do any of what he had said, but, he did have the upper hand at this point in the conversation. “Not quit, but I could make you put Spider-Man on pause for a day or two.”

“Oh my God! I get May, but I really thought you might be able to understand!” Peter bit his thumb. He was _done_ crying.

“Understand what? Let me know. I’m all ears.” Tony was practically begging.

“Spider-Man is a hero! He has a job! When he doesn’t do it, people can die!” Peter’s voice grew even louder. “He’s not just somebody I become for the hell of it! He’s not just somebody who can take a day off! You of _all people_ should know that!” He started fidgeting with the bed sheets beneath his fingers, hearing the fibres stretch. “God, I am so sick of hearing people telling me to take it easy! To relax! I’m gonna work as hard as I can, while I can! I don’t care if I’m hungry, or tired, or sick, because the bad guys don’t care either!” The comforter ripped.

“Okay, Peter, okay. I get it.” Tony had his hands up, placating with Peter to calm down some. “I know where you’re coming from, and I understand. But, I need you to hear me out here. Of course there will always be bad guys out there- anytime and anyplace. You learned that this week, right? When Karen had you going all across Manhattan.”

Peter was still trying to cool off a bit, looking down disappointedly at the bedspread he’d ripped. “Right.”

“How can Spider-Man take on any of those bad guys if he’s stuck in Med-Bay?”

“I won’t ever be in Med-Bay.”

“What if you overexert yourself again?”

“Not gonna happen. I thought you overheard earlier, I’ve got some nutrition thing now.”

“It’s not just about the food. And when do you plan to find the time to eat?”

“I’ll make time.”

“Doesn’t really sound like a plan yet. What about drinking? Bruce tells me you’ll need at least 120oz a day, _minimum._ ”

“I’ll make time for that too.”

“Sleeping?”

Peter just nodded his head.

“But, Peter, my whole point is you don’t _have_ time. If you want to be the best hero you can be, there have got to be some compromises somewhere when it comes to your prioritizing.” Tony paused. “Do you know where I’m coming from?”

Peter sighed, knowing that he was being stubborn. Tony was right in the sense that he would make a lousy hero if he was too tired to put up any kind of a fight. “I know, Mr. Stark. But, there’s not anything I can do other than what I’m doing right now. I’ve been doing it for a little over a year, and things have always worked out. This was just a crazy week with a whole lot of inopportune events.”

“But you haven’t even asked for any help on what you _could_ do instead.” Tony didn’t want to let Peter stop.

“How about, whenever a week starts to go as awry as this one did, I just actually tell you about it, instead of keeping it a secret? Does that sound okay?”

“No, Peter. I’m talking about real, structured, concrete ideas.”

“Yeah, like the ones that involve me not being Spider-Man.”

“No, no, no, nothing like that.”

“Okay, then what? Because I’m not quitting, and I’m not missing school.”

“I can’t really think of one off the top of my head.” Peter looked even less convinced by Tony’s lack of ideas. “But, but but but,” Tony rambled, “we’ve got like, all summer to think of some, no?”

Peter shrugged. “I mean, I guess.”

Tony saw the teen’s doubt. “Kid, seriously, you and me could probably brainstorm a ‘Peter Parker High School, Undergraduate, and Graduate Spider-Man Plan” in one afternoon if our minds were a bit more focused.”

“I mean, I guess I had thought, a little while back, about maybe using my Spider-Drone to help with crime and stuff.” Peter offered.

“I mean, I think I designed it mainly for reconnaissance, but we could program it differently and give it a few bad-guy-bashing weapons.”

“Yeah, and what if I had like, a bunch of them.”

“You could dispatch them across the entire city, have them connected with Karen, and then you’d be more aware of the different types of crime.”

“I could probably help more people at once if I had those.”

“You might even be able to take a breather at your apartment, and grab a bite while they’re wrapping things up.”

“Yeah! Or start up on my homework.”

\-------------------------------------------------

The two continued to bounce things off of each other, all scenarios in which Peter was able to do his job as Spider-Man, and do it well, all while being able to take care of himself, his academics, and his school-related activities.

The “five minutes” Tony had planned were now quickly becoming an hour, but neither the mentor or mentee were complaining. However, right when things were tying together perfectly and coming to an end, Tony stated, “And I mean, if you end up with a ‘B-’ or something, it’s not the end of the world.”

Peter couldn’t keep himself from cringing at the thought of having any grade different than an “A”. Even “A-”’s were partly a sin. “I mean, it kind of is, Mr. Stark.”

“Oh, please, Peter.” Tony joked. “We both know you’re smarter than most of the kids at Midtown, maybe even some teachers, and if your grade drops a bit because you were late on assignments because you were on an Avengers mission, it’s no big deal.”

“Yeah, but colleges think transcripts are a really big deal, so, I want all ‘A’’s Mr. Stark.” Peter countered.

“Kid, you literally have some of the very best recommenders at your fingertips. Not just yours truly, but Pepper, Rhodey, Steve, Sam,” Tony counted on his fingers. “I could go on and on. We can easily vouch for you, and your ‘internship’, and how it demanded so much time from you that you were more than willing to give.”

Peter shook his head. “But then I’m just like all of those celebrity kids who have their parents buy them into the big schools.”

Tony was surprised by Peter’s reaction. Shouldn’t a guaranteed spot at any college of Peter’s choice be a blessing, and a huge mark of relief? “Yeah, but you aren’t like those kids, Pete. I know you, so-”

Peter looked Tony dead in the eye, his face and tone blank. “Mr. Stark, don’t even try to deny this: if I weren’t Spider-Man, you would have no idea who I am, and you wouldn’t care. You wouldn’t know me.”

That nearly knocked Tony out of his seat, and the shock must have been written all over his face, because Peter was quick to jump in, “Sorry sorry sorry! That was really blunt! Believe me, I am super grateful for my powers and for meeting you, okay? I didn’t mean to make you upset or anything!”

As much as Tony wanted to deny Peter’s claim, there was a voice in the back of his head telling him that Peter was right. The radioactive spider could have bitten anybody. It could have bitten Peter’s friend, Ned, or Peter’s bully, Flash, or it could have bitten nobody. The fact of the matter is, Tony knew that he would have recruited Spider-Man to help him in Berlin, no matter who he was, and Peter knew that too.

“Jeez, kid. That is quite the ball to drop.” Tony chuckled awkwardly. “Listen, I’m not gonna tell you that you’re wrong, but I won’t tell you that you’re right. The thing is, you _are_ Spider-Man, and I _do_ know who you are, and I’m grateful for that every single day, alright.”

“Alright.” Peter smiled, instantly warmed by Tony’s statement. He really was a lucky kid.

“With all of that being said, and with it being established that you are not like some celebrity kids, why don’t you want help from me, or people from _Stark Industries_ , or people from the team?” Tony asked.

“Because I want to earn it. I mean, it’s like what I said earlier. If you didn’t know me, and you were actually looking for some intern that would be hired for actual intern stuff, you would probably want the best kid with the best grades, right? Well, college is the same way, mostly. I want to believe that the schools that I apply for, or that I get accepted by, want me not because I know Tony Stark, but because they _want me._ And they won’t want me if I’ve got low standardized test scores and too low of a GPA.” Peter finished.

“Yeah, well I don’t think that that’s a very good way to choose students for their schools. What about character traits? What if they accept some really smart mean girl, but reject some extremely kind, hard-working, ‘B+’ average joe?” Tony rambled, even though he had already grasped and understood the system to admit students that was installed by higher education colleges and universities since before his first days at MIT.

“It is what it is, Mr. Stark. Now do you get it?” Peter asked, already knowing he’d gotten his point across.

“Yeah, I guess so. And what I think is,” Tony cleared his throat, getting ready to deliver the mushy stuff, “it’s very admirable to try and do the work, just like everybody else. To be the little guy. To submit the assignments, ace the tests, be involved in your extracurriculars, and all of that sort of stuff, even when it’s difficult. And I’m especially proud of you because, I guarantee, if it were anyone else in your shoes, they wouldn’t be trying to do what you do. They’d take the easy route, probably slack off, maybe even dropout of high school so they could come and live at the Compound. But I know that the ‘easy route’ just isn’t something in your DNA. It’s pretty incredible, kid.”

Peter blushed. “Thanks Mr. Stark. That really means a lot to me.”

Just as the both of them were avoiding eye contact and sheepishly looking around the room, Bruce entered.

“Great to see you looking so much better, Peter.” Bruce looked at Peter’s healthy complexion, the nearly empty bag of fluids hanging right beside his bed, and then noticed the torn bed sheets. “Uh oh. Everything going okay in here?” He raised his eyebrow at Tony inquisitively.

“Yeah Mr. B-, er, Dr. Banner, sir. I was- I was, uhm-” Peter stuttered.

“I just got him a little overexcited about some new ideas for the suit. Nothing major.” Tony finished for Peter, casting him a wink when Bruce turned away.

“Yeah, well, it’s okay to be excited about Spider-Man, but,” Peter sighed, realizing he was about to get the same lecture that he’d already heard twice from May and Tony. Bruce continued, “there won’t be any patrolling or missions until you gain a little weight back, and start to effectively balance everything going on within your life.”

“Believe me, Dr. Banner, I know. Me and Tony were talking about some pretty cool ideas on how I can make Spider-Manning and patrols a bit more easier and efficient. And I’ve already started to look over the nutrition plan with May.” Peter relayed.

“Good. That’s good, so long as you don’t slip on any of it.” Bruce was beginning to remove the tape surrounding Peter’s IV line. “Did you have any questions about what May or Tony talked about with you regarding your health?”

“Uhm.” Peter didn’t look away as Bruce removed the needle. He always found that he would make himself more squeamish when he didn’t watch the needle exit his skin, and all he could feel was the long metal moving out of his arm. “I guess I’m just a little curious about _why_ I passed out. I wasn’t really super focused when you were talking about it, if you ever even talked about it when I was awake.”

“Well, it was pretty much a combination of low blood pressure, which resulted in lower oxygen levels in your brain, dehydration, exhaustion, and how low you were on different electrolytes.” Bruce explained.

“Yeah, I guess even as Spider-Man, that’s a lot of stuff my body just couldn’t handle at once.” Peter then grumbled to himself. “Steve probably could’ve handled it.”

Bruce was able to pick up on a little bit of Peter's murmurs. “Yeah, try again, Peter. Any other Avenger living your week would have probably dropped by Wednesday, or, if they’d have been enhanced, at Thursday night’s training. So don’t worry, everyone still thinks you’re macho.”

“Come on, Bruce. Look at him!” Tony got up, and stood over Peter. He mimicked nearly pinching the teen’s cheeks. “He’s too small and cute to be considered a ‘macho’ guy.”

“Hey!” Peter huffed. “I can be intimidating.”

“You really look it, dressed in a cotton shirt and Spider-Man boxers.” Tony couldn’t help but notice that Peter’s ripped sheets were revealing the kid’s current apparel.

“ _Hey!_ ” Peter quickly bundled the sheets. “Mr. Stark, that was literally a blow below the belt!”

Bruce only laughed as he grabbed Peter’s clothes from a closed drawer, tossing them onto his bed. “You can get dressed whenever, Peter. You are free to go.”

“Sweet!” Peter nearly jumped out of bed, no longer caring about his “childish” undergarments. He was also grateful to not feel an ounce of vertigo or dizziness.

“Yup, you better hurry, Peter, because it’s almost 8:00.” Tony pulled up Peter’s nutrition plan from the watch on his wrist. While May would use a paper copy, Tony had immediately downloaded the plan once he caught word of it. It was just easier for him to keep up with the kid’s nutritional needs as well. “According to this, you’ve already missed a meal, so we’re gonna have to add it into your mid-morning breakfast.”

“We’re starting that today?” Peter asked, feigning confusion. “I thought maybe we’d start it like, after school lets out for summer.”

Both Bruce and Tony gave Peter incredulous looks.

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” Peter laughed. “So, I can’t really remember what the packet said. What’s for my ‘mid-morning breakfast’ this morning?”

Tony read and scrolled through the different foods. “Three chocolate chip protein pancakes with sixty-four grams of peanut butter, two cups of whole milk, a six-egg omelette with tomatoes and spinach, a banana, and a mug of green tea.”

“Yes! Man, I really should have fainted way before now! This is great!” Peter pumped his fists as he led himself out the door, practically skipping his way to the kitchen.

Tony rolled his eyes looking at Bruce. “I swear, this kid is on his way to turning nose-dives and other injuries into an Olympic event.”

Bruce looked knowingly at his longtime lab partner. “Tony, I’ve heard how you used to stay awake for days at a time, and all the while, you would train, design more suits, and live off of some weird green smoothies and Redbull.”

“Yeah, so?” Tony didn’t see Bruce’s point. Bruce scoffed. “You literally qualify as Peter’s coach. Let’s just hope these particular Olympics won’t come around for another four years.”

“Yeah, how about never.” Tony turned off the lights of the Med-Bay room, hoping to not find Peter back in it anytime soon. And now that Peter had the resources and support to take better care of himself, he certainly wouldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first story officially finished! Whoo-hoo!
> 
> I'm on break this week, so hopefully, hopefully, hopefully, I can get "Have You Ever Seen the Villlage?" done and ready for the next couple of weeks. Then, I've got a really fun, relatable (I think), "crack-taken-seriously" story that I'm super excited to go for. That story will be my first one-shot.
> 
> I really hope that you guys enjoyed this story! Happy early Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates the holiday! Stay safe all!
> 
> -WithACherryOnTop


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